


Eight

by writer168



Series: One Shall Find Flames [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Amegakure, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Aburame Shino, BAMF Haruno Sakura, BAMF Inuzuka Kiba, BAMF Yuuhi Kurenai, Families of Choice, Gen, Kumogakure | Hidden Cloud Village, Multi, Ninja Politics, Team Bonding, Team Feels, Team as Family, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2020-05-18 21:06:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 111,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19342636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writer168/pseuds/writer168
Summary: The Third Hokage was dead.It wasn't enough.Team Eight knew loss like the seals on the backs of their tongues. They'd been silenced, branded, abandoned, ambushed, left on the enemy's doorstop like a gift--unlucky was their nickname, but they would make it their trade.The Third Hokage was dead.It was Danzo's turn.:: ::SEQUEL TO: Hoshigaki (2017-2019)Commissioned Cover by AwesomeDragonTamer on Wattpad (caleb-crow on Tumblr; caleb_thalia_crow on Instagram)BETA: OfCloves on Wattpad





	1. The Lovely Lost

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/181912075@N03/48077610511/in/photostream/)

:: ::

**"When tree leaves dance, one shall find flames. The fire's shadow will illuminate the village, and once again, tree leaves shall bud anew."**

_-Sarutobi Hiruzen-_

:: ::

Kumogakure was hidden in a range of tall mountains, clouds weaving between peaks like snakes and the air so fresh and thinning. Six thousand five hundred seventy two steps was what it took to reach its gates from the shrine at sea-level, and those who made its journey could attest to sore muscles and a peaceful climb.

And despite their shameless reputation, a Kumo-nin could be noted with three distinct features: their upstanding views on justice, their refusal to back down, and the loyalty they held not for the village but everything the village should stand for.

They never once had any particular interests in other village's individual shinobi aside from leverage and special techniques, and they knew they never would.

:: ::

"Today marks the one month mark of the Konoha team's capture, sirs," Mabui reported diligently. Her deep green eyes were alight in their depth as both A and Darui offered up their full attention. "There has not been a single attempt at escape since their capture, though the guards have noted that they each have recently started exhibiting unusual... behaviors."

"Unusual?" A repeated, throwing his arms over the back of the long red couch that served as his office seat. Darui stood just to the side, his hands in his pockets and the usual dull look on his face. Light spilled into the room from the windows that acted as most of the walls.

"Yes, Raikage-sama. It appears they are teaching themselves," she said as she glanced down at the clipboard in her arms to make sure she was understanding it correctly. "The guards hadn't been too sure they were documenting it correctly, but the opinions offered by the attending medics have confirmed that all three Konoha shinobi have been participating in some form of ‘self-education’."

Darui exhaled softly. "Sounds boring." But still, his attention remained sharp as ever.

"We asked for their names in the beginning and Intel has determined that they did not lie and their identities are who they said they were, and we have been gathering information on them since," she continued. "The one in the large jacket and glasses is Aburame Shino. He has been self-mutilating his body and healing the injuries he's caused. This includes breaking bones, tearing muscle, and slashing veins. The guards have not intervened thus far, but medics come in twice a week to assure he's never near death." Mabui, in all her respectful professionalism, couldn't help the slight furrow in her brows. A and Darui exchanged startled glances. "The one with the fangs is Inuzuka Kiba and the canine is his partner, Akamaru. He has been draining blood to write seal theories on the walls. He's completely written over the floor and two of the four walls of his cell, and is halfway through the third."

A's whole face scrunched in confusion. "That's..."

"The one without part of her left arm is Sakura, no surname. She has been going through physical exercises to the point of such over-exertion that she passes out. In her latest collapse she has not woken in three days, and medics had to hook her up to an IV. The guards have said that she sleeps from midnight to four in the morning precisely and the schedule is only interrupted by states of unconsciousness."

Discomforting quiet filled the office for a beat before A spoke. "And who exactly are these three?"

Mabui glanced down at her clipboard once more. "They're a team who competed and passed the most recent Chuunin Exams."

"The one interrupted by Orochimaru and Suna's coordinated attack."

"Yes, sir," she confirmed. "This is the first mission they've taken on as official chuunin. Our sources have confirmed it as at least a B-rank and is speculated to have to do with the kidnappings around the Sekai Sea. We don't know exactly which island the chuunin were assigned to, but the trail we followed led to Koinobori Island."

Fishy.

It's the first word that would pop into anyone's mind hearing that the first time. Investigating kidnappings, even somewhere as remote as the Sekai Sea Islands, could never constitute as a B-rank; it's a A-rank in the very least and everyone involved should have known that. And B-ranks were only assigned to _experienced_ chuunin, so what were fresh-out-the-exam shinobi doing on it? Not to mention they'd gone to the Coliseum and came out _alive_.

"They remained at the Coliseum for nearly a month and a half before they retreated to the islands near Lightning where three of the four of them have been captured by our border patrol."

"The Aburame are a noble clan in Konoha," Darui noted, his hands slowly coming out of his pockets. "Surely word has spread that something's happened to the team and a search party, no matter how small, has been sent for them. Or an alert. You know, _something_."

Mabui shook her head, a troubling feeling seeping through her facade in the way her ring finger twitched against her clipboard. "As far as we know, no action has been taken for their retrieval. What's even stranger is that the team believes no one will come for them and has informed us of as such upon their arrival. Of course we thought them to be bluffing, but now, a month later..."

A's thick eyebrows pulled together and a scowl twisted his lips. What game was Konoha playing? What—they were just going to send an inexperienced chuunin team so far off so close to the destruction of their home village? Had it been his plan, the chuunin would help with the rebuilding while the upper shinobi divisions would be out collecting funds for construction and the other internal issues. The Konoha council was old enough to understand _that_ much.

"There are a couple more... disconcerting details," Mabui started. She pressed her twitching finger flat against the board and met the eyes of both her boss and comrade with a posture of concern. "Surveillance who followed up on Koinobori Island have reported that it has more or less been reduced to ashes and it's speculated the chuunin team had a hand in the destruction. Though when taking into account border patrol's report of the day of their capture and the prison guards' daily observations, we're also led to believe that the team had been attacked and restrained minutes before being found by our forces."

A was suddenly on his feet. "Take me to this Konoha team," he demanded.

:: ::

C walked up and down the short corridor of three separate, but occupied cells. His eyes went from the way one boy set himself up to break another one of his bones (if its his ankle or shin he'll do this time, he'll never know until he hears a resounding _crack_ ), to the other boy who ripped at his skin with his fangs so that his fingers dripped with the blood he used to keep on writing (what he was trying to figure out, he's at a loss for), to the girl who'd been dead to the world for three days and counting (how she managed to willingly drive herself to such a state was a cause for concern), then back to the first.

All of their items had been confiscated and sent to the Analysis Division to determine if they were full of traps or jutsu, but nothing had been found.

These were Konoha dogs. Despicable shinobi. Enemies to the Kumogakure name. Those whose words could not be trusted.

Yet, he couldn't shake what the girl told him before sinking into her current state.

_"We're of no use to you, nin-san," she told him quietly, respectfully, but with no cowed head. "We have nothing to give you, and Konoha won't give anything for us."_

_"If we tell them we do indeed have you? Send proof? Make sure this isn't some measly threat?"_

_She stared him straight in the eye. "Then you're just wasting your time," she said. "Inexperienced chuunin are expendable."_

_And she didn't break his gaze until he was the one to look away._

C grit his teeth. None of this made any sense! These brats—these baby-faced _chuunin_ —couldn't be here for no reason. There was no way. And the only possible information they could extract was clan jutsu or something along those lines, because they were too low of a rank to hold any substantial information about their village and for some odd reason, those seals examined on the backs of their tongues were determined to be _cursed_ seals; the worst sort of fuuinjutsu meant to block verbal freedoms.

Prisoners had those, or special forces. But the way border patrol had found them injured and incapacitated...

He shook his head and sighed. They had what seemed like infinite injuries, amputations, cursed seals on their tongues, brands in the shape of mice on the backs of their necks.

And now, they had the prisoner identification bands Kumo tattooed on their forearms.

If every shinobi in the world could list every assault on their person throughout their whole careers, half of those wouldn't be half as long as those Konoha-nin.

C peered into the cell with the Inuzuka and his partner. Both of them were pressed up against an unbloodied corner with the boy's shoulders hunched up to his ears as he tucked his face into white fur.

At the sound of the door being thrown open, the Kumo-nin forced a blank face and turned towards the sound. Quickly, his heels snapped together and his spine straightened.

"Raikage-sama," he saluted. A strode in and came to a brisk stop at the cell on the floor. The Aburame's. "I have finished today's medical assessment of the prisoners. Would you like an oral report of the findings?"

"Is it any different than the other reports?"

"Negative, sir."

"Then save it for your written report and get me into this cell."

Mabui and Darui stood next to C as a guard unlocked the metal door and A stepped through the entryway.

And he had to pause.

When he heard of these chuunin, he was expecting someone who looked, well, like a shinobi. Maybe time at the Coliseum would have them weathered a bit and maybe they'd be more on the sickly side due to the treatment they most likely would have suffered at the hands of such an institution.

But he wasn't expecting to see a kid.

The boy slumped against the wall had cuts up and down his arms and all across the visible parts of his leg, all of them smeared in dried blood and callously healed so the scars were ripped and jagged, the ink of the identification bands stark against his skin. A half-lidded eye glanced up while the other was merely a _socket_ —an old injury, by the look of it—but an unsettling one nonetheless.

The chakra-controlling cuffs around his wrists and ankles made him look smaller, too, and A almost felt bad just having to look at him.

"Raikage-sama," the boy greeted quietly. His roughened voice churned out of his throat like an unoiled gear. "What can I do for you?"

A's brows scrunched. "Name?"

"Aburame Shino."

"How did you come to Lightning Country?"

"By boat from the Coliseum. I believe the island it was on is called Koinobori." A shaky breath left his lips as his body sank even further into the concrete. But he held himself up. "... It was burning when we left. If it's not gone, we will continue to set fire to it until it is."

Behind him, Darui and Mabui shared a look. C pressed his lips together.

"What village do you hail from?"

"Konoha."

"You say they won't come for you."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"... Why?" Shino repeated. His eye closed and he went silent for a whole minute. A didn't budge as each second ticked by, even if the tension notched up bit by bit in the unwavering silence. But the boy shifted, using his heels to push him backwards and help prop him up. "... Be... cause... we were never... worth it."

His head tapped against the wall and some of his cuts began to bleed.

A backed up into the hall. His open white haori swished at his knees as he made his way back out the cell block, Mabui and Darui following close behind.

"Lock it back up and start on more permanent security measures," he ordered. "The Konohans are gonna be here a while."

And the door shuts, just C and a couple guards left in the hall.

After a beat, C took hold of the door and started to push it closed, but not before Shino spoke up again. Much softer, much hoarser, much younger.

"My... my team...?"

"... They're alive," C informed.

Shino exhaled out his nose. "Thank... Thank you."

C had no reply for that. He didn't know if it was from the shock of decency or that he had nothing in him to humor a prisoner of the village, but he shut the door without another word and sent out a pulse of his chakra to lock it.

Konoha dogs. Baby-faced chuunin. Prisoners.

... Kids.

He left the cell block for the day and headed straight for the hospital. It was almost time for his shift.


	2. Flicker

**_November's Skies Look Like Smoke_ **

:: ::

C didn't know what he was doing, standing in the hall of this floor of the prisoner's block like this.

The thick metal of a door stood between him and the cell he stared at, but the key was in the tips of his fingers and the guards knew better than to stop him if he chose to do something unexpected. He was both a personal support of the Yondaime Raikage and a high-level medic operating at Cirrus Central Hospital—the largest medical center for shinobi and shinobi-related research.

It was a pride of his, being able to offer his services. Not many Kumo-nin became medics and even then, most of those who did gravitated towards the field instead of allowing themselves to be sequestered in their village's high peaks. He understood the feeling. Truly, he did. There was a certain thrill of staying alive to heal in the midst of battle instead of watching comrade after comrade get wheeled into a white room and never knowing if it would be your own fault if they couldn't be saved.

But.

That didn't erase the issue of the slowly declining number of available medics at all their facilities. The civilian doctors did their jobs well, but there would always be cases they could never have a hope of taking on themselves.

Kumo needed medics.

And there was one on the other side of that thick metal door using chakra _he wasn't supposed to have access to_ and wasting it on healing cuts and breaks and strains he inflicted on himself.

 _Self-education_ , Mabui described it as.

C tapped a finger against his thigh. Another. Again.

He turned and walked out of the hall.

:: ::

"What do you mean you're putting off the surgery? He doesn't have three more days!"

"There's no one who can take it!"

"What about Q?"

"He hasn't had any _doss_ in five days—"

"—where the hell's Airashi—

" _Kak_! We just got a squad in from—"

C's pen almost shattered in his grip as he braced himself on one of the admin counters, six or seven files under his hands. The common behind him wasn't new—far from it. Medics couldn't operate on a 24/7 basis and that was what Cirrus needed, especially with their dwindled numbers and the fact that the entire staff was stretched too thin.

The smaller specialty clinics like Cumulus Memorial or Nimbus Point tried their best to accommodate extra patients when they could and Stratus Medical Center was a civilian-only facility, leaving the medics with no other option but to buck up until they passed out from chakra exhaustion.

He rubbed at his eyes and the bags he was sure were purpling under them.

He thought about the ragged staff, the patients, the sleep he hadn't gotten in almost fifty-two hours.

He thought about a thick metal door.

He gritted his teeth and leaned forward over the files. Two of them needed paperwork done for surgeries and the others needed their daily checks to be cleared and handed off to the nurses.

What he tried not to think about was how much lighter the medic workload would be if there was another trained body in the hospital.

:: ::

The guard who marked his arms told him the ink was made out of a small tree native only to Wind and Lightning Country. Ground and crushed and mixed into a rich brown paste, the brush dipped into it wound around his forearms three times: twice by the wrists and once near the elbow. Each band was broad, maybe three or so centimeters wide, and burned with the chakra that traveled from hand to hilt to bristle to skin.

 _The ink was a stain,_ the guard had said. _Without chakra application, it'd fade in a few weeks and it made for a lot of design and tradition among the Sunese. But its permanence marked its prisoners with its earthy color tethering them far away from the clouds._

The guard chuckled a bit, then. _Just a bit of Kumor superstition._

Shino thought the bands would look nicer if he'd chosen to wear them.

The metal cuffs covered most of the first band and the second and third were littered with all sorts of scars from the cuts he tore himself and healed with all the chakra he could pull from his restraints. The collars from Nezu and Co. were harsher and left him wheezing and struggling to focus, but these ones only left him winded and tired and before he knew it, he'd be waking up some time later with new scars and the same locked door across his cell.

"But we don't have to fight anyone here," he murmured to himself. "We don't have to kill. We don't have to watch our backs." He shifted, and his bare feet skimmed along the hard floor. The plain black pants they issued him caught a bit of dust at the bottom hem, and the matching shirt was thick enough to keep the concrete's cool touch off his back. "We're still alive. They're still alive. Are... they still alive?" He shook his head and dragged his knees to his chest. "They are. They'll survive. They will. Why? It's... It's what we do best. Always."

His kikai hummed in assurance.

But he didn't know how long he could keep believing it himself.

Just as he wrapped his arms around his waist and settled himself against a corner—if it was night or day he wouldn't know—and his eyes were slipping closed, a thrum echoed in his ears and the door swung open.

It wasn't the Raikage this time.

It was the blonde medic.

Though he wasn't as blank-faced as all the other times he'd seen him. His arms were crossed and his shoulders weren't as rigid as they usually were, and the frown that marred his face was nothing like the simple flat line that normally met him.

"Can you stand?" the medic asked.

Shino answered by pushing himself up to his feet, only swaying once and catching himself on the wall before he could tip over. The other granted him a once over before motioning for him to step out of the cell and to follow him down the hallway.

He did so with no reluctance. His back straightened, his shoulders pulled back, and he set his eye straight ahead of him. His arms were nothing but criss-crosses of burgundy scabs and there was a dug-out valley that peeked up the collar of his shirt, pink and half-healed. Not a sound spilled out his mouth as they passed the wary, yet curious guards and walked down the spiraling flights into what Shino assumed was the prison's Confiscation Repository.

The medic picked up a tattered green jacket, inspected the sleeves for a few beats, then shoved it the boy's direction.

"Wear it," he ordered.

Shino did. But only for the ends of the sleeves to stop half a palm-length away from his wrists and for the back to stretch taut over his shoulders, and it suddenly dawned on him how long he'd been staring at plain gray walls since Kumo, since the Coliseum—

Since Sai.

Shino's whole world blurred and refocused in what to him felt like merely a second, but it must have been a long enough time for the medic to have left and come back with another jacket. He, again, said nothing as he shucked off his tea green coat for one the same Kumo-gray color the guards wore.

The sleeves brushed against the beginnings of his thumb, covering both the cuffs and the bands.

"Is this protocol for your prisoners?"

The medic, who'd taken his wrists to push up the sleeves and wrap bandages around his forearms barely glanced upward at the query. "Protocol for?"

"For pre-execution."

The bandaging on his left arm was pulled a little too tight.

Black eyes snapped up to his, fire sparked in its dark depths as the medic finished wrapping his arms and straightened. "Why is that your expectation?"

"Why would it not be?" Shino replied. His arms fell to his side. "Your Border Patrol didn't kill us when they found us. You have everything that was once in our possession. You've learned you can't glean important information because of the seals on our tongues." He paused, but didn't notice the paper thin crease that sprouted between his brows. "What month is it, Medic-san?"

"November."

"... Ah." It was sort of bright in the repository. His kikai crawled along his insides, their spindly legs idly weaving and idly wondering if he would get his glasses back to shield his sensitive eye. But he didn't think he'd get them back. What use would glasses be for the dead? "We'd left Konoha sometime in August."

It was fall in Konoha. Sakura said she'd found a persimmon tree on one of their D-ranks outside the village, and after a more than enthused Kiba made her promise to take them there when it ripened so he could see how much he could stuff into his mouth at once.

November would've been perfect.

"Perhaps it's selfish of me, but I suppose I wouldn't mind being the first to die," Shino muttered more to himself and his insects than the other in the room. His gaze sought out his glasses on the other side of the room. He stared at its blurred outline, missing the paper-thin crease deepening on the medic's face. "I'd die knowing they're still alive. Because if I was the last one to go... the last—the..."

He trailed off and met the medic's blank stare. "My team?"

(He didn't know this was a medic whose reserve was slowly crumbling around his eyes at the sight of someone whose thirteen years were not long enough to fear the deaths of others over the death of himself.)

:: ::

This was it. This was the one. The worst decision he'd ever made in his entire life.

If only he didn't give in to the pressures of the hospital, the sight of his friends and coworkers falling to fatigue and exhaustion and to the voices in their heads berating them for not being able to do _enough_. If only they didn't have this problem of too many patients and not enough interest in the healing arts to make up for the strain in the industry.

If only he never knew about what was behind that thick metal door.

"They're alive," C answered, "and you won't be dying today."

He pulled out a pair of Kumo-issued sandals off one of the shelves and set it at the boy's feet before snatching up the orange glasses and throwing them over as well.

"You are now a Shino without a surname who grew up in a small village along Lightning's border. You have medical training and have come to Kumogakure to expand on it and I am the superior that has signed off on your request to work at Cirrus Central Hospital," he said. "Your restraints will now allow you access to your chakra as long as it converts to _medical chakra_ upon release. Your kikaichu are to stay out of sight. You are never allowed anywhere without supervision. And — " He loomed forward, a mask of complete apathy on his face. " — no one will _ever_ learn who you are, nor will anyone see a _millimeter_ of your forearms or the cuffs at your ankles that the sandals will hide. Is that understood?"

Shino turned his uncracked glasses in his hands and wiped a smear of dirt off the right lens with his thumb. He slipped them on and thought of Aoba.

"Understood, Medic-san."

The blonde nearly scoffed as he ushered him out a back entrance of the building.

"My name is C."

... This was an absolutely terrible idea.

:: ::

Sato Akemi unlocked the door to her shop when the sun started to barely crest over the horizon. Normally she wouldn't be so early but a couple shipments were set to arrive in an hour and she promised the delivery man she wouldn't make him wait as long as he did last time because well, it hadn't been _her_ fault her alarm clock had fizzed out on her that morning, but she'd make sure to come extra early just in case.

As the lock clicked and she took a single step through the threshold, a particularly chilly breeze swept past her and goosebumps rose on the skin of her arms.

Her wind chimes rattled, and there was nothing behind her but a cloudless sky and the beginning of a perfect day.

:: ::

**_We Can Feel December's Breath in Our Bones_ **

:: ::

Mabui's heels were silent on the stone stairs as she ascended to one of the higher floors of the building. Catatumbo Penitentiary didn't typically carry too many inmates and hadn't held prisoners from another country in years. They'd been lying low since the failed abduction of the Hyuuga heiress nearly a decade past and shinobi from other nations were smart in avoiding their borders.

Catatumbo didn't even have fifteen current occupants, as a shinobi prison, one would think it a relatively low number compared to the 50+ civilians Staccato Detention Center's held.

She nodded at the guards as she entered the hall and looked into the first cell. It was empty and this time she didn't panic-not like the first time.

The guards had to jump to stop her from sounding the alarm and hastily explained something like 'C-sensei had him' or 'It was all C-sensei's idea', and when she burst into the hospital for that blonde head of hair, she ran into Shino himself in the midst of assessing a group of new patients and handing off newly filled forms to the attending nurses.

She'd been pulled aside by a near disheveled C before she could reveal anything incriminating, and even though having a secret prisoner work for the betterment of Kumo wasn’t necessarily a _thing_ , the stats surrounding Cirrus Central Hospital had been showing signs of a general increase and she couldn't argue with the numbers.

Raikage-sama tried to.

His outrage sent his couch careening out the window, but after seeing how well the Aburame shouldered the extra work, in turn taking some of the bulk off the actual resident medics, the only punishment C received was sitting at the end of a three hour long rant and getting taken off the mission roster for six months.

Mabui peered into the next cell. Not too long ago the walls had been filled to the brim with nonsensical symbols and reasoning that wound around in circles and circles before they got back to the same place they started. The boy—the Inuzuka—had ripped off part of his black pants to scrub his dried blood off the walls so he had room to puzzle out even more of whatever ran through that mind of his, his canine watching the whole time while he crossed his shackled paws beneath his jaw.

The last cell in the hall held the girl trudging through one-armed pull-ups while being hooked up to an IV drip. She was the only one of her team to request the guards for things: a wooden bar and a resistance band.

The resistance band she tied to one end near the center of the wooden bar on the ceiling and the other end tied around to the remains of her left arm.

Mabui quietly admired her resolve. C had noted her amputation had been recent in her initial examination, not more than a month old by the time they landed in Kumo's clutches.

She stepped away from the cell and made her way back down the hall. There were a few more things she had to do before reporting back to Raikage-sama, such as drop off some documents for the Cipher Division and collect the weekly update from the Seals Division...

She paused in front of the middle cell again and rushed to peer through the small window in the door. Sharp eyes darted wall to wall, top to bottom, sentence to sentence of blood-tinted words and crude diagrams brought to life with the pricked pad of a finger.

Locks, matrices, sequences, layers, odds, evens, primes, margins, ratios—

Seals. Seal Theory. Every single available concrete space was crammed with _seal theory_.

When she tried to read those brown-crusted words in a new light, those circles made a little more sense in the way they curved and the starting points weren't at all the same with their tweaked angles and shifted perspectives. She didn't know how long she stood there gaping at the advanced scrawls, but by the time she reached the bottom of one of the walls, the dog had stalked into her line of vision with hunched hackles and eyes too guarded and wary to be anything intimidating.

The chuunin stopped writing. "Huh? What's up, boy?"

Akamaru barked lowly and he turned towards the small slip of a window on his locked door.

(But no one was there.)

Kiba pat his partner on the head. "Which one was it?"

A bark.

"Green eyes, silver hair. Not a guard?"

A small huff.

"Huh. Wonder what she wants." He spun back on his heel and toward a wall as he pricked the scabbed pad of his pointer finger with one of his fangs and pressed it up against the concrete. "... Hey, Akamaru?"

Akamaru raised his head and cocked it to the side.

"You think we're gonna rot here? Y'know, in a Kumo jail?"

There was silence as a tail thumped against the floor in consideration. His partner whined quietly before resting his head on the shackles around his front legs. Kiba's brow furrowed for the slightest moment and he sighed.

"Yeah," he murmured. "At least it's not the Coliseum." He dragged his finger through another line of theory, even quieter, "Or gettin' stabbed in the back in _Konoha_."

(Mabui willed herself to move away from her place beside the chakra-sealed door, confusion in her eyes and an unfinished to-do list on the forefront of her mind.

Her heels were silent.)

:: ::

The not-guard-lady didn't come by again for a while. Akamaru didn't notice anything and neither did he-though Kiba couldn't really say how long it'd been. He could barely keep track of time back when they bulldozed through books and books of research and they had Sakura in the Coliseum to count down the days that passed to the _hour_. But here? No windows, no sun, no nothing.

The guards brought in food twice a day at different times to really hammer in the loss of awareness and pushed it through a small hatch at the bottom of the door with a latch that could only open from the outside.

He was surprised when the prison served them meat every other meal, unlike Nezu and Co. who'd only ever served them rice and vegetables.

He thought Kumo was supposed to be the hardass country.

There was the ringing click of the hatch and two plastic trays are pushed through the slot. Kiba reached to pull them close but stopped halfway when the hatch didn't shut as quickly as it usually did.

Akamaru was immediately on his feet with his claws out and his legs set like a spring was coiled within them. A handful of seconds passed before a plain glass ink bottle and a capped brush was slipped through followed by a manila folder with a post-it note on the front.

_What is the overlay?_

The hatch shut.

"Overlay?" Kiba mumbled. Akamaru sniffed at the folder as he pulled it into his lap and flipped it open. Inside were pages of notes and chicken scratch of trying to puzzle out the complete seal overlay from the configurations written out on the first page.

Two barks.

"Yeah, they prob'ly want me ta' do some shit for 'em, but..." He shuffled through more of the papers. "What's the point? I'm jus' some dumbass kid from Konoha." The folder shut and got tossed to the other side of the cell and the trays pulled forward. "But hey. Don't gotta use blood for the walls anymore, I guess."

He shoveled unseasoned pork bites into his mouth, bloody writing at his back and his partner at his side.

:: ::

Two meals were served and the folder was still in the same place he'd tossed it.

Kiba hated that more often than not he caught himself lingering on the folder and the post-it note as his fingers itched for something new to work on. There was only so much he could dig up from all the stuff he learned before from what he could read in the library or what Iruka-sensei taught him and at this point, the theories on the walls were just him writing to write.

But if he worked on whatever was in that folder...

He groaned and slid onto the ground, capping the brush and setting it next to the near-empty ink bottle. Akamaru's tail thumped a couple of times against the floor as he swung his head around to look at his partner.

"I really wanna look at that overlay stuff, but like, it'd be like me doin' Kumo a favor, right?" Kiba asked. "Why would I do somethin' like that?"

Akamaru stared at the folder for a few moments and woofed.

"... Yeah. I guess. I'm askin' why I should do Kumo anythin' when Konoha never did nothin' for us either."

Wasn't that right? When Sarutobi Hiruzen was alive he'd done the equivalent of cutting off their tongues and sending them on mission after mission in hopes they'd never make it back for another. And after his death he'd damned them again by turning them chuunin by decree and somehow, letting Danzo have his way.

Letting Sai fuck them all over.

Kiba exhaled through his nose. No, he shouldn't blame Sai.

He should be blaming himself for thinking he could trust him.

When the small hatch opened next and two trays were slid through, the folder was pushed out before it closed, the inside covered in freshly dried ink and the finished overlay boxed on the very last page.

:: ::

"It's all correct?"

"Correct? This work is borderline ingenious!" the Seals Technician exclaimed as he spread the notes on the table. Mabui peered at the one particular sequence he pointed out. "Take this for example. The team and I tried to work it from top to bottom then bottom to top, as one normally goes about figuring how to complete sequences and matrices or anything of the link." He then pointed at the writing not quite in the middle, but close. Maybe a few characters off. "But _this_ is the starting point. Clearly marked, too. I don't know how you could possibly start so off-center, but the outcome? It would have taken us maybe a week or two longer to go about it the usual way, but you took this a couple of days ago?" He turned to her fully, eyes wide and shining. "Who managed to solve it so quickly? I'd love to have someone like that on the team."

Oh.

Mabui smiled, easily covering up the quiet anxiety trembling beneath her professional front. "When I received your weekly update and found you to be struggling with this particular seal, there was an... _associate_ I've come across who I believed could help. It seems my hunch was not only a hunch."

The Seals Technician knew that the term "associate" was more or less a nod to the fact that whoever managed to solve an advanced overlay like that one was meant to be kept on the down low or not even mentioned at all.

He shrugs it off. It wasn't like he was a stranger to shinobi affairs.

"You know, if those scrolls you'd taken off those prisoners hadn't been marked highly classified, I'd be hunting down that associate right now to try and get them to break those locks," he sighed. Mabui's expression tightened slightly-well _of course_ Inuzuka would be able to break those locks since it looked like he'd been the one to craft them himself-and it was something the Seals Technician didn't see. "Could your associate come down one of these days? It would really help us out."

A bead of cold sweat ran down the back of her neck.

"I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you very much, Mabui-senpai!"

She left the building with a particularly sharp pain in her forehead and an image behind her eyes of a bemused C raising an eyebrow at her in his rare disbelief.

:: ::

During the meal right after Kiba had sent the folder out, the hatch opened and a third tray was slipped into the cell. On it was a plate of something that looks like pink cotton candy, but somehow thicker and gummier than anything he'd seen in Konoha.

_Thank you._

The note read.

_If there's anything you'd like, please let me know._

A part of him wanted to snort and ask to be set free, but as he glanced down at the silver at his wrists and the dark brown embedded in his arms, he couldn't find the energy in himself to make the joke.

He was tired.

So, so tired.

Kiba flipped the post-it note over and scrawled on it with the last of his ink before he slid it back through the hatch, and it shut.

_I want to know if my team's okay._

He went back to his meal not expecting an answer, and Akamaru sniffed his food before he latched onto a bone with quite a bit of marrow at the center.

The hatch opened once more, slowly, and a soft voice floated through. It was deep and rich and Kiba's mind immediately tacked it onto green eyes and silver hair.

"They're alright," she told him.

Before he could even think to reply, the hatch closed and it was quiet again. Just him, Akamaru, and the writing on the walls.

:: ::

Kisame wasn't ashamed to admit that he'd felt relief when they weren't able to capture Uzumaki Naruto.

It was a couple weeks back when they'd escaped the Toad Sannin's trap and reported back to Leader empty-handed, but none of that deterred him even after they'd been dismissed by the static chrome of his projection. He'd taken to bugging Itachi about getting checked out by a medic one way or another, and if not for the whole thing with his lungs, then at least for his eyes that he'd overused.

So here he was, sat in a too-small plastic chair in a shinobi optical specialist's waiting room, rain pattering against the windows and the receptionist trying his best not to look him in the eye.

Kisame glanced at the pile of old magazines at the short table to his left and picked up the one on the top of the stack and leafed through it with unfocused eyes.

Uzumaki was even smaller up close. At the chuunin exams he'd seen the boy on the other side of the arena, loud and impatient and smiling for pup. In the hallway in the middle of that tourist town, Kisame could see how short he really was—unkempt blond hair, confused blue eyes, clothes a little too worn to be passed off as just from 'training'.

He didn't kill kids. Never had, never would.

But he wondered just why Konoha wanted to kill one of their own kids by shoving a demon behind a baby's navel.

He sighed and tossed the unread magazine back on the table. He leaned back, and the plastic creaked slightly under the movement. It would be a while until he could head back to Konoha since their new implementation of a stricter policy, meaning he couldn't check up on pup like he'd planned on originally.

 _'And all it took was an invasion by a literal sannin to get them to up their security,'_ he griped internally.

A hand came down to rest on his left shoulder just beside his bandaged seal, and he looked up.

Itachi and his faintly cloudy black eyes stared down at him. "Shall we?"

Kisame stretched his legs and stood as he slipped his hat over his head. His partner followed suit as they both stepped into the rain-stained streets. True to Ame culture and produced from the Ameks that lived there, the cement streets were covered in neon art almost ingrained in its foundation. Little paintings of things like cranes and frogs flowed bright orange and pink and green and purple under the torrential downpour.

The scarce visitors that came were always amazed.

The natives knew it wasn't just art.

Kisame remembered how pup would always hop on the green lily pads when they walked the streets at night, her bright laughter echoing in his ears. The memory was grainy, now. He hadn't heard her laugh in so long.

"Hey, Itachi-san, let's head ta' that tea house ya' like. I'm kinda cravin' that orange spice tea they got."

Itachi tilted his head. "Hm. It's been a while since I've had their green tea."

They walked along the gleaming caricatures beneath their sandals in a village where red lanterns hung over the streets and neon signs brightened the skies in a way the sun never could.

:: ::

**_In January We've Lost a Winter_ **

:: ::

"Bee, I'm serious!"

"And I'm tellin' you not ta' sweat, so why's what you're doin' is fret?"

A slammed his fist against the desk and a crack ran through the center. "You know damn well why I am! Because once you get an idea in that damn thick head of yours I need to send at least _three_ of my top shinobi to stop you before you try!" He sighed and shook the splintered wood from his hands. "Just... don't look into it. Please. Two of them are already off the leash and that's enough of a headache as it is."

"Two?"

A glared. Bee raised two placating hands. "Lips sealed, that the deal. Won't do nothin' that'll wrinkle that mug, bro."

Gyuuki's snort echoed in his head as he slipped out the office and straight towards the exact place he told his brother he wouldn't near. **_'Of all the things you could've invested yourself in, this is what you choose. I shouldn't be surprised.'_ **

_'You're tellin' me those secret Konoha-nin locked up ain't interestin'?'_

**_'I'm telling you that you should listen to your brother and heed the potential consequences of your actions, dumbass.'_ **

_'Well you can sit back and watch the show cause Imma find out what I wanna know.'_

Gyuuki huffed and said nothing else.

Killer Bee chuckled under his breath at his friend's exasperation before he stepped into the chilled air of Kumo's high peaks. Even though he walked down the smaller streets with less vendors and even less people, he could see the neat, slanted overhangs and the benches and gazebos perched atop roofs. Stairs were attached on the sides of each building that wound up to the gazebos and suspended bridges criss-cross over the streets, shadowing markets and walkways and where civilians could traverse over more than just the ground.

The Kumor had always wanted to be as far from the ground as they could. Maybe that was why all the children learn to scale steeps and cliffsides as quickly as they learn to walk.

He smiled and waved at someone sweeping up the front of their shop. The owner took one look at him and promptly turned their back to continue sweeping. Bee had spent over twenty years staring at the turned backs of those who wanted nothing to do with him that the action didn't lessen his grin as he continued on his way. The younger villagers tolerated him much more than the older ones did, which was far more that he could've asked for, but was it wrong to wish he'd meet someone who didn't already have an image of what type of person he'd be? Just because he wasn't like them? Just because one of his closest friends had ravaged the village even before he was born?

Couldn't they just give them a fair chance?

**_'Bee...'_ **

"Hm?" he replied aloud. "Say somethin', Gyuu?"

The Hachibi didn't respond as Catatumbo crawled into his sights. Killer Bee instantly perked up and didn't even try to sneak past the guards. He strolled through and they were either too intimidated or knew better than to stop him. He was quick to traverse up the stairs to the flood he'd been _specifically_ ordered not to go to and bursts through the door.

The guard stood between the Confiscation Repository and the hallway of cells almost slumped at the sight of him. "Bee-sama, you're not supposed to be here. Raikage-sama gave clear instructions for you not to be on the Penitentiary's premises," she said. Damn, how long ago did A give the order? "Could I advise that you train instead? Or to check in with the wall patrol since it's part of your duty as Village Guardian?"

"Ah, c'mon Enmu, lemme see one of the Konohans. What's the worst I could do? They got their chakra locked as far as I heard, and I'm just wonderin' what stirred the word on these birds." Enmu Sôun wasn't amused, but her black-painted lips twitched and her pale pink eyes narrowed. "Tell you what, if I get in and you don't tell my bro, I'll snatch you one a' those burgers by the grotto."

She cocked a blonde-ish white brow that was nearly as pale as her own skin. "I guess I get why you're so interested in those kids. No one really knows 'bout them, but the ones that do can't really get a read on what's what."

Bee blinked behind his dark glasses as the smile slowly faded from his face. "Kids?"

Enmu jerked her head towards the hall and settled back against one of the walls. "Check it for yourself, Bee-sama." She tilted her head. "And I want a burger for lunch tomorrow from the blue shack in front of the cracked arch."

The cracked arch was one of the bigger grottos and had more locals hanging from the ledges than bats.

He hummed absently as he slipped into the hall. The first cell was empty and so was the second, but the third cell...

A girl with pink hair with one arm held herself in a handstand. Drenched skin stretched taut over hardened muscle and there was no lapse in her form. Her toes pointed towards the ceiling and the IV drip taped to the junction of her elbow ran as smoothly as the sweat that dripped from the tip of her nose to the cold hard floor.

_'So the prisoner's really a kid.'_

' **_And a Konoha shinobi caught within our borders,'_ ** Gyuuki reminded him firmly. **_'Don't get any ideas, Bee. You've already done enough by disobeying your brother. Go home.'_ **

_'I just told Enmu I'd buy her a burger to not talk to a prisoner? Nah, Gyuu, that's a waste.'_

**_'Bee! Don't—'_ **

Bee's hand was already on the door. The locks immediately began to open and that mischievous part of his brain was always so smug that no matter the security clearance, his chakra would always be recognized as per the requirements of the Village Guardian position.

He squeezed through the smallest crack of the door he could manage and closed it behind him just as quick. The girl stayed planted on her hand for a long few seconds before she lowered on foot on the ground, the another, then stood to full height.

It surprised him that the top of her head reached taller than his shoulder.

"You're not one of the guards usually in this building," she said. He cocked a brow and leaned back against the concrete.

"And why's that your thinkin' when you're just a cucumber in this cell picklin'?"

When she turned to face him fully, her black prisoner's shirt did nothing to hide those rippling scars that spanned from her shoulder blade to her jawline and ended ripped and ragged at the bottom of her cheek. Though it wasn't her appearance that quite caught him, but it was the lingering chakra of whatever caused it that pulled at his senses.

It was familiar. It was angry.

It was just like Gyuu's.

"Your hands," she answered. Her gaze flickered down at them. "They're not the same ones that deliver the meals, so it's either you're a new guard that's paid me a visit or you're not a guard at all." She held her hand behind her back, the IV tube swaying slightly with the movement. Her chin never dipped. "What can I do for you?"

 _Respectful_ is the first word that popped into mind at her display, which was surprising in itself considering young shinobi never have their arrogance curbed until they lose themselves in their first kills or their first capture or the first time they needed to obey an order they could only wish to forget.

He was curious—did she stand tall because she didn't know what she was doing or because she knew all too well what she'd gotten into?

Bee pointed to the IV bag. "Why've they got you hooked up?"

"I train until I can't and they don't want me dead."

"No?"

"No. But I don't know why." Her fingers curled beneath the thin plastic tube and gave it a light tug. "Konoha has no warmth for Kumo and vice versa and you must have realized we're worth nothing more than wild animals you happened to pick up on your borders." Green eyes were blank and cold and not so bitter, and it cast an eerie light in the dim prison cell. "I'm waiting for my execution, sir, but I didn't think I'd be waiting this long."

Gyuu hadn't said anything in a while, but Bee could clearly see him in his mind's eye. The beast quietly observed the exchange, his eight extra arms tucked beneath him and his two main ones crossed over his chest.

**_'Her name.'_ **

_'Huh?'_

**_'Ask for it.'_ **

He rolled his eyes beneath his glasses and passed on the message. The girl raised one of her brows.

"Sakura. No surname."

Konoha never really had interesting shinobi. Maybe there were a few autumn leaves in the sea of green like _Kiiroi Senkou_ , the Yellow Flash, or _Ichizokugoroshi_ , the Clan Killer, but the pink is new.

And, undoubtedly, one of the more interesting things he'd come across these days.

"Sakura, then," he acknowledged simply. Bee left the cell after that, stopping at the end of the hall and at the receiving end of one of Enmu's deadpan looks.

"Did you get what you came for?" she asked.

"Didn't know what I came for, not really," he said. He jerked a thumb at his head. "But I got somethin' up here, ideally. Keep it hush, shush, word's not gonna get out, but I think I found an interestin' sprout."

Enmu's forehead wrinkled like she wanted to argue, but she only sighed noisily and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "I really can't keep up with you, Bee-sama."

' _... I wonder if there was someone out there,'_ he thought as he set out of Catatumbo for the day. _'Someone other than A that could keep up with me.'_

:: ::

Sakura had her head pressed against one of the walls when the stranger walks in again. She counted just a little over twenty-four hours before he'd shown up again, but she didn't open her eyes or push away from the wall when she heard his sandals tap gently against the floor. There was a faint rustle, and she figured he crouched to be at least eye-level with her.

"Is it raining?" she asked.

"Showers started some time ago, supposed to creep through the day all snail's pace slow," he replied. "What, can you tell from here? The building's soundproof, ya fool."

Her father once told her the rains in Ame were unnatural. He always joked about God and his temper, God and his complex, and she loved the little stories he thought up for her. But it wasn't until she was a bit older and a bit wary that she began to understand why Leader-sama was worshiped just as much as he was feared.

He laced his chakra in the rain, she figured. And maybe that was why even when the skies were blue and clear over Konoha, she would always know when to tell Kiba not to keep Akamaru outside for too long.

"But I was right."

"Hm... Guess you were."

She opened her eyes and faced the stranger to find him with a hand on his chin and his gaze far off and considering. Two blue tattoos sat just beneath his left eye along that socket bone, and there were more swords strapped to his back than seemed sensible.

Not a guard. A regular force shinobi, maybe? Maybe not. He must be high enough to gain clearance to sit around her cell doing nothing and looked old enough to have established himself as someone important in the village. Idly, she cursed herself at not having kept up to date on Kumogakure's history and politics; she'd been too busy digging up Konoha's and Suna's pasts and problems, but she knew that wasn't an excuse.

"Alright then," the stranger decided. He stood and popped open the door. "Let's go."

He disappeared from her line of sight.

And left the door wide open.

Sakura blinked once before she slowly rose and shuffled to peer into the hallway. The stranger had his arms crossed as he waited near the end of it, bobbing his head side to side to a rhythm she couldn't hear. She glanced back at her cell, then the hall, then him.

_Breathe in, out. Straighten your back. Lift your chin. Not too much. Never lower your eyes. This is not arrogance. This is not intimidation._

_This is practicality._

She strode forward like there wasn't the weight of three other worlds on her shoulders.

(She would never know the way Gyuuki's head tilted at the sight of her.)

:: ::

Enmu Sôun was halfway through her burger when the last prisoner of the hallway stepped into view.

She stared. The girl stared back.

After Bee took a cloak from the Repository and handed it to the girl to slip on, Sôun sunk her teeth into another bite of her burger and slumped against the wall.

"Bee-sama, you do know that I'm now _required_ to inform Raikage-sama of your actions."

"I'll have her back in the cell in a while," he waved. "Don't get tangled in your knots, I'll keep her low profile."

They were both out before Sôun could give another long suffering sigh.

Her groan echoed through the prison block before it was muffled by a mouthful of bread and buffalo patties.

:: :: 

Kumogakure floated on the clouds.

Sakura's gaze flickered at everything she could spot through the low hood and the light rain and saw the dozens of plateaus connected by the bridges that made up the village, all different heights with trees sticking out the sides with swings wrapped around their sturdy branches. She committed everything to memory—she tried—but the smell of something that isn't dust and concrete made her head spin.

But dust and concrete was better than blood.

They crossed to a plateau far from the main districts, raised much higher than most of the other platforms and dotted with steps carved into its side that wind all the way around, narrow and cracked and steeped.

But even as she looked down at the clouds and the endless fall below, all she could think about was the air.

Ame air was always thick with the musk of rainwater and the heat of neon signs. It was a scent of heavy spice from the curry stalls and moss that settles in the cracks and crevices of dark brick and stone. In Konoha, it was an air of green leaves and green tea and green stalks of flowers sold from the Yamanaka Flower Shop—it was an air of sun and sweat, of tree sap and wood work.

Kumo's air was thin like breathing hot air on a cold morning, and it was new.

At the top of their silent climb they stepped onto a mesa with no boundaries and with their clothes soaked from the rain.

Sakura tipped her head back, letting the droplets splatter on her cheeks. Pink hair ran down to just about the middle of her back, and she wondered just how long it had been that it no longer nagged her that it needed to be tied up and out of reach.

But she supposed prisoners had no need for—

The metal bands around her wrists ankles release every last drop of her chakra, and with a face still turned up at the heavens that never smiled at her, she _breathed_.

And instantly ducked away from the foot careening towards her head.

:: ::

_'Gyuu, take a look! She dodged that hook I cooked and there's a fire in her eyes. Makes me wanna check just what she's gonna try.'_

The sky rumbled and he grinned as she aimed a kick to his face that he blocked. She used his arms to launch herself behind him to try and snag one of the swords on his back, but a pivot and his elbow was soaring for her stomach. She twisted hard enough that her cloak whipped off and she used the brief distraction to make another grab for a sword at his hip.

"Hey! I ain't gonna let you snatch one a' these," he chided. Bee gripped her hand and chucked her far enough that she slid to a stop just before she could topple off the mesa. "These blades right here you ain't allowed ta' seize!"

"Afraid I'll break them?" she called out as she swiped a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth.

"Afraid you'll bring me ta' tears with a bad form, fool, ya fool!" he laughed. "Konohans don't know how ta' wield a sword if it's the last thing they do, you 'spect me ta' believe what's different's gonna be you?"

Sakura flexed her fingers, all five of them up to count. "If you don't think Konohans are at your level, then how does an Amek compare to a Kumor?"

 **_'She's Amek?'_ ** Gyuuki hummed. He plopped his chin on his hand as he watched her through his host's eyes. **_'Explains the attitude with the rain. An immigrant to Konoha then, maybe to—oi!'_ **

Bee unsheathed a sword from his back and threw it blade first. She let it pass over her shoulder until the start of the hilt slid just past her peripheral, and her hand came up to lock around the red bandages. Not a goosebump on her skin came from the chilled rain, and he snorted. Definitely an Amek.

He took a single sword for himself.

**_'...Bee, I want the truth.'_ **

Even with only one arm she held the sword like it was her own, tipped slightly in front of her and knees slightly bent and ready for action.

She lunged. So did he.

_'What's on your mind, Gyuu?'_

Most of her blocks are in perfect form save for the blows he directed at her left side. She wasn't used to the opening and it was obvious, but her determination made up for it with awkward angles and the way it was like she was meant to carry a blade.

**_'What are you doing?'_ **

Bee shunshinned behind her and twisted a free hand in her hair while the other pressed sharpened silver against her neck. But just as quick as he trapped her he lost her, and he was left with a dense clump of pink snagged on his calluses as she retreated to the other end of the mesa.

She'd taken the weapon, held it to the base of her skull, and sheared it all the way up.

He blinked, and she sunk into another fighting stance.

The rain pelted harder and the clouds were at their darkest gray, and as the skies filled with lightning, he found himself laughing amongst the thunder claps as he twirled the sword in his hand.

"Let's roll, kid!"

:: ::

 **_'You never answered me,'_ ** Gyuuki said after Bee locked Sakura back in her cell with a dry set of prisoner uniforms and skillfully avoids Sôun to avoid any questions. By night the rain had let up some, but there was no use in getting dry until he got back home. **_'You wasted your whole day humoring that little Amek.'_ **

_'Little? She's way taller than Enmu!'_

**_'All you humans are insignificant, but that's beside the point!'_ ** the beast snapped. **_'The girl, Bee! Why did you bring her out of the cell, why did you fight her, why did you lend her one of your swords, why did you bother? Until your brother comes to a decision about them, they're prisoners on death row and shouldn't be treated as comrades. What are you thinking?!'_ **

_'Nothin' much.'_

**_'Really?'_** Gyuuki drawled. **_'And what exactly has kept you so occupied that you're forgetting your obligation to your duties?'_**

Bee walked onto one of the rope bridges that connect plateau to plateau, careful to mind the third step that had never been fixed since the day he broke through it nearly seven years ago while he was running away from A.

 _'Dunno,'_ he shrugged. _'Prob'ly the same stuff that got C and Mabui.'_

The Hachibi sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. **_'Bee—'_ **

But Bee didn't listen, his hands tucked in his pockets and an old tune whistling past his lips. Gyuuki knew he should raise his voice to get his idiot's attention and try to knock some sense into that hollow head of his, but he heard the words that have been rattling around his host's brain since the day he heard it and relented with another loud sigh.

_"I really can't keep up with you, Bee-sama."_

No Kumor could keep up with their Jinchuuriki Guardian: Killer Bee.

So why did Bee think an Amek in Konohan clothing could?

:: ::

Senju Tsunade was the Fifth Hokage and she couldn't give any less of a damn about what everyone else thought about it even if she tried.

She spent her days in her office with a bottle of sake on her desk and a sharp tongue to lash if anyone came to her with stupid shit laced on their tongues. Hell, she’d already garnered a reputation of an iron fist after reducing an incompetent nurse to tears with a single sentence and demolishing a wall of the hospital when they couldn’t make up their minds about costs of expansion and filling her ears with useless whines and drivel.

But currently, the one thing that pissed her off to no end lay on her desk. Six broken pens piled up by her chair and her assistant, one Kato Shizune, stood just out of range of the Hokage's blast zone as she clutched Tonton close to her chest.

Three stacks of paper were stacked heavy beside her desk and ten more smaller stacks sat innocently around her work space.

"Why is there so much paperwork today?" she managed out of ground teeth.

"It's, uh, Tsu-Tsunade-sama, the system these papers go through is a long process and only now have all of these been approved for you to read and sign, and ah! Tsunade-sama! We just got that desk yesterday!"

"Get me the dumbasses in charge of this useless ass system _right now_!" she demanded, a fist through her brand new desk. Shizune quickly bowed and sprinted from the office without a second to spare as pages flew all around her.

And somewhere, buried under stacks and stacks of papers and folders and staples, there was an unread report from a mission assigned over five months prior.

:: ::

**_In February We've Lost a Home_ **

:: ::

A sat facing the windows, his office empty save for the steaming cup of tea on his desk and the completed stack of paperwork just waiting to be picked up by the errand boy that would come by in a few hours. His head rested in his palm and his fingers curled against his goatee.

It was a nice day out.

And he was pretty sure those Konoha chuunin were enjoying it just as much as the next Kumo citizen.

He tipped his head back to rest against the couch, eyes on the wooden ceiling.

He wanted to hate what's been happening. He wanted to bark at his shinobi and his assistant and his brother for what they were doing—taking the prisoners without his permission and-and treating them like were one of their own? Absurd! Especially since they were that damn Konoha lot who couldn’t be trusted no matter how much they preached about _peace_ and _unity_ and _teamwork_.

A scoffed. Teamwork? Unity? Tell that to the Uchiha and the Senju that built up that village starting from a single plank, but could never again come together for that _peace_.

The prisoners should already be dead; they were forcefully sealed (he swallowed a grimace and shoved off the sympathy that crawled over his shoulders) and squeezed dry of anything useful. 

He was going to have the Aburame killed first but C had snatched him up and thrust him into Cirrus Central Hospital hoping for a cure for the overworked medics and, well, it worked. A was hesitant to admit it, but the boy was sufficiently trained and had once sewn up a patient with a pack of floss and a senbon when his chakra was no longer at his disposal, both intriguing the other medics and giving C a heart attack at the crude, effective method of surgery.

And that wasn’t even mentioning the reports he’d been receiving from the Seals Division had been filled with glowing praise for “the kid prodigy Kiba from the same border town as Cirrus’ new medic that Mabui brought along” who never followed the rules of step-by-step seal solving and rattled off the most bizarre theories that he gestured with fanged grins and poster-sized papers filled with his evidence.

 _Akamaru is such a great addition to the team too,_ a Seals Decryptor once wrote, _like a mascot, almost! I think the stress levels in the department have gone down having him come along._

Then came the whispers of Killer Bee’s new sparring partner: a Sakura with pink hair that could match him blow for blow and always got back up even after accidentally getting tossed off one of the village’s sparring plateaus. Rumor has it that she’d climbed all the way back up with her one arm and two feet until she’d hauled herself to the top three hours later, sweat blinding her eyes and her fist held up to keep fighting.

He wanted to hate them. Wanted them locked back where no one knew who they were and regarded like the enemies they should be.

He raised his head back up and watched some of the citizens hanging around the bridges as he leaned forward against his thighs.

He wanted to hate them, but he remembered Kumogakure was built by the hands of runaways taken in by wandering monks until they were old enough to wander themselves. With no one to meet and nowhere for home, they walked until they found an abandoned shrine at the base of a mountain and built _up_.

And since then, they welcomed all with no family and no place and promised to have all of that in the clouds, in Kumogakure.

He sighed. Or at least, it was how the legend went and why most of the Kumor never had a surname.

A saw heads of all colors, skins of all colors, backgrounds of all colors traversing the streets and sharing laughs and words like they’ve never known what it meant to be a stranger.

It had been five months since three kids and a nin-dog had been captured on the borders of Lightning Country with the headbands of a village that never came for them stuffed deep at the bottom of one of their bags.

A stood and dug out an execution form from one of the cabinets. There was no date or official stamp, but the names had been printed on a long time ago.

_Inuzuka Kiba. Akamaru. Aburame Shino. Sakura._

_Of Konohagakure._

He crumpled the paper in one hand and let it roll into the trash.

A wanted to hate them, but he didn't.

:: ::

Izumo diligently sorted through an entire binder of cleared mission reports to store down in the Archives. Kotetsu had managed to skip out of this particular job, much to his grumpy displeasure, but his partner promised to get them take out from that soba stall on the other side of town and he couldn't find it in himself to complain too much.

Some of the missions and reports weren't too bad to read through and the grumbling ones from the shinobi attending D-ranks got a little snort out of him every now and again. Genin complaining about getting cats out of trees? Precious.

The last report he had was stuffed in a slim folder with no note on the tab, so he flipped it open to check the date and ranking.

He stopped at the sight of the face of Kotetsu's student staring blankly at him, a red **MIA** stamped across her picture. The next page, Tsume's son. **MIA** . His nin-dog partner. **MIA** . Next page, Shibi's heir. **MIA**.

At the ends of their profiles: **PRESUMED DECEASED**.

"Shit," he whispered in the dim light of the Archives. He could already see the look on Kotetsu's face when he hears the news; the red-rimmed eyes and the slack jaw and the way he'll disappear for a few days when he finds out that...

Izumo snapped the folder shut and drew in a deep breath and morbidly, he thought,

_'Unlucky Eight, huh?'_


	3. Copper

**_The Ghosts of March Keep Whispering_ **

:: ::

"So if you're not, like, a seal-sy person, how come you knew I was good at it?" Kiba drew his spoon through a bowl of dark red stew and took in some light colored meat, a kinda-jello cube, and a potato all at once. The spice hit him as quick as the heat and he swallowed without chewing as his mouth set aflame. "What the— _what the fuck is that_ ," he whispered.

Across from him, Mabui chuckled into her hand before taking a sip of her own meal. She didn't share the same visceral reaction and continued to eat like the devil themself wasn't in her food. "I will admit that Tragopan Blood Stew is an acquired taste, but it's one of our milder dishes."

Akamaru woofed around the yak bone he was gnawing on and lolled his tongue when his partner glared through watering eyes.

"Take some butter tea. It will help."

Kiba downed the cup in one gulp and hung his tongue out his mouth, hoping the frost of Kumo's air that rolled in every time someone opened the front door could chill his taste buds, and Mabui took a moment to mull over the past few months.

She had to give Kiba a whole new set of clothes when she let him out of the cell because the plain clothes could have the potential to be too telling, so she'd taken some liberties with his style. The standard-issue black pants stayed but she'd pilfered through her apartment and her brother's old clothes for some outgrown mesh shirts and a couple of black track jackets with a white stripe down the middle of the back and around the elbows. Those ones ran a little big, but she figured he would grow into them. Long-term planning and all that.

The thing she was most mindful of, though, were the metal bands and brown tattoos on his person that would instantly announce his status.

She had him wrap his ankles and forearms with bandages colored the signature Kumogakure red and told him never to leave his cell without them. Only when he agreed did she have him keep several rolls for convenience.

"But to answer your question, even though I didn't understand much of what you'd written on the walls, I understood enough that it belonged in advanced theory," she said. She tore a piece of flatbread and dipped it into her stew. "Tell me, Kiba-kun, what led you to study seals?"

He bent over his bowl and slowly dug out another piece of meat, careful to get as little soup as possible. "I wanted t'know how ta' reverse seals."

A pang rattled just behind Mabui's rib cage. Those seals... it nearly slipped to the back of her mind. After they'd been brought in from the border and examined by a seals expert sworn to secrecy, they'd confirmed the seal work to fall under the 'cursed' category due to its manipulation of body, mind, and will, and had also confirmed its unwilling application by the apparent stress marks amongst the black lines.

It sickened her to her stomach to hear of such a thing. The Kumor developed their sealing techniques through skin once a long time ago, but the move to paper mediums came because of the permanent, detrimental effects that were consequence with their use.

Some of the older generations who still live with them were blind or deaf or had lost all movement in one arm or the other, or their skin on a leg had been burned so thoroughly even if the clear ink of the seal still remained. Or maybe they couldn't remember their own name longer than a day but could recite their favorite book cover, notation and all.

Those who currently utilize powerful skin seal knew of the risks they took. But nowadays, there were so few.

"I ended up gettin' really into it," he continued. "Turns out I'm pretty good at it? Sakura and Shino thought I could do a lot with it and I have a teach' back in my old village. Or, uh,  _had_." Akamaru set his head atop the hand his partner rested on his lap. Kiba cleared his throat and quickly fished for a jelly cube thing. Jelly cube? Oh, it was blood. Definitely congealed blood. "But it's still cool. Am I allowed t'look at the sealing books in your library?"

"I don't think it would be too difficult to grant you restricted access to the Lenticular Library Circuit."

" _Lenti_ —Mabui-san," he whined, "that's not a word!"

She covered her mouth as another laugh spilled past her lips. As she brushed a few strands of her hair behind an ear, she glanced out the window of the small restaurant they were tucked away in. The warm rays of an afternoon had lessened and stars began to speckle the sky. "It's getting quite late; I'll have to return to Raikage-sama's office soon to prepare tomorrow's schedule."

"Okay," he nodded. He tipped his head side to side, wondering if he should take another sip of the demon stew before he left. "Thanks for bringin' us, Mabui-san! We've never had Kumo food before and Akamaru really likes the yak and bison legs!"

"You're welcome," she smiled. As they stood to gather their bearings and venture out into the crisp air of her beloved village, a solemn feeling weighed down her bones and down to the soles of her feet as they walked the path to Catatumbo Penitentiary, then eventually some back roads so no one knew where they would end up.

It was times like these she forgot Kiba was a prisoner.

She forgot he wasn't a surname-less boy with a genius for seals and their theories, that he hadn't come to learn from the capital of the country like his village mates Shino the Medic-Hopeful or Sakura the One-Handed Sword. She forgot that he hadn't been born on the borders, none of them, and that they were actually a product of one of their greatest enemies.

 _'But',_  some part of her murmured,  _'an enemy that sealed their own and left them for dead.'_

"Hey Mabui-san, I got a question."

She glanced down at him.

His face screwed up. "What's a tragopan?"

"They're a type of pheasant, and the ones served in that restaurant those native to this part of Lightning."

"Pheasants? What, like... pretty chickens?"

She pressed her hand to her mouth again to smother her laughter. "I suppose you can call them that," she agreed.

And when he grinned, she couldn't help but think how Konoha didn't deserve a boy like him.

:: ::

"Ah, what a shame."

Naruto's ears perked up and turned to the sound of the voice. His hands dripped with the frigid water of the stream that rushed a step away from where he knelt, and he wiped his face dry on his jacket sleeve and pushed himself up to his feet.

Jiraiya sat at the base of a tree with a pen between his teeth and his nose deep in one of his brainstorming notebooks.

"Didja say somethin', Ero-sennin?"

"Just trying to figure out how to write this part and... hm... what do you think about me adding a bit where my beautiful heroine gets a White Letter then the kick is we don't know who it's from and BAM! Cliffhanger!" he exclaimed. Naruto rolled his eyes and shook the water from his hands. "How about that?!"

"I don't even know what a White Letter is!"

"Huh? You don't?" Jiraiya set down his notebook and squinted at his student. "Aren't they supposed to teach you that kinda stuff at the Academy?"

"Well they didn't," the boy sniffed. He didn't actually remember if they talked about whatever those letters were or not with all the times he didn't pay attention, which was always, but there was no way he was gonna admit something like  _that_. "Whatsa' White Letter?"

"So." The sannin beckoned Naruto closer until he plopped on the ground in front of him, legs crossed and eyes wide. "Let's say you go on a mission that's high risk. When you gain rank and experience you'll learn to distinguish the dangerous ones and the dangerous ones you might not come out of. That's when you write your last words in letters for important people who maybe won't see you again. It's morbid, but hey, we signed up for this. Can't say we didn't know the risks, right?"

Something familiar nudged at the back of Naruto's head.

"You take those letters, seal them all up in white envelopes, and write who they're for on the back in black ink. After that the person takes every letter they've got and leaves it with a trusted person in the village to distribute if they really don't make it back. But on the chance they do, that trusted person hands it back to them." Jiraiya rolled his shoulders. "It's mostly jounin who take up the practice, but depending on the mission, you never know, you know."

Naruto reached for his gray backpack and threw the front flap open. He dug through old clothes and weapon wax and clumpy wire and ramen packs until he reached the bundle of envelopes he tucked in a clear plastic baggie so he wouldn't get them all dirty.

The ** _Yuuhi Kurenai_** on the back on the top envelope was written clear as day.

Did... Did Sakura-chan really g-give him...

"—uto? Oi, brat!"

His head snapped up. "Huh?"

Jiraiya frowned, concern pulling at his laugh lines as he watched the boy wrap his arms around his pack and pulled it close to his chest. "Did someone—Did someone leave you White Letters?"

He shook his head so hard the sannin thought that if he kept it up a little longer it might have popped right off his neck, but Jiraiya could always pluck a lie out of a sea of truths and half-truths. Being trusted with White Letters wasn't a bad thing, per se, but knowing Naruto and the scant friends he had, he was curious as to just  _who_ in the village had trusted this boy enough to leave something as delicate as a last will and testimony.

"Look, it's okay if you got some, but it was probably a bad idea to bring them along if I'm training you out of country for who knows how long—"

"They're not White Letters," Naruto declared firmly. His lips pressed together and his eyes hardened in a way Jiraiya hadn't quite seen before. "She just asked me to keep them! It's a mission that's s'pposed t'last, like, nine months or somethin'! Nothing bad's gonna happen and, and, she's prob'ly back in Konoha right now! You'll see!"

Heart heavy, Jiraiya opened his mouth to try and explain that  _no, it wasn't good for us to think like that, because the more you push it away the harder it pushed back and sometimes your friends_ don't  _make it back_ , but Naruto was up on his feet with an excuse of hunger on the tip of his tongue as he escaped further downstream to catch a couple of fish.

He leaned back into the tree and sighed. "You'll learn one day, kid." He thought of Minato and Kushina, faces from his Academy years that he never saw again, all the missed opportunities and all the people he'd ever failed. "Sometimes, things just don't work out the way you want."

An image of Uchiha Sasuke flashed in his mind's eye, as well as the scratched hitai-ate he left behind with his unconscious student at the Valley of the End.

"But still, I wished the world was kinder to you, Naruto."

:: ::

Darui heard of the way too rowdy kid that joined the seals sector. Or maybe 'joined' was a strong word. It was more like a kid showed up with Mabui one day and solved a seal array by taping pieces of it to the ceiling because "lookin' up wasn't the same as lookin' down."

Then he found out who the kid was.

Then, understandably, he made sure he wasn't day dreaming and gently pulled Mabui aside and asked, quite politely, what the fuck was going on.

"It's... complicated."

"Can you uncomplicate it?"

"Kiba-kun, he's..." Mabui trailed off, searching for words in the walls with how fast her eyes shifted from spot to spot. It caught Darui's attention instantly, because of everything she was as the Boss' dutiful assistant, indecisive wasn't one of them. "He's a nice boy," she finished lamely.

"A nice boy," he parroted, tone as dry as the sand dunes he once scaled in the Wind Country provinces. "The prisoner."

"Shh!"

Her hands latched around his bicep as they stood just outside the Seal Division workspace. The room hummed with the buzz of Kiba and the workers elbow-deep in a particularly tricky ten-layer seal and it was only the two of them who'd stepped out into the hall, but Mabui wasn't one to take chances and Darui had known her long enough to pick out the quiet panic in her face.

"The Seals Division doesn't  _know_?"

"The only ones who do are the assigned guards, C-san, Bee-sama, and I," she said. His eyebrow cocked at the mention of his partner. "And along with Kiba-kun came Shino-san and Sakura-san. They're his village mates from the border town near Turtle Island. Surely you've heard of them?"

 _All_ of the prisoners had been let out of their cells  _and_ had backstories to cover up their true identities? Boss once mentioned to him in passing that the circumstances around the Konoha prisoners had changed, but he figured it was nothing big, maybe a shifting of placement or a hold on an execution date, so he'd let it be and kept his nose out of that business.

Apparently that was a mistake. And look where it left him.

He exhaled through his nose and shuffled a bit to the side to peek through the glass window of the door. Kiba hovered over one of the tables with one hand holding a brush and the other gesturing just as wildly as the rest of him as he and another technician tossed ideas back and forth. His eyes were bright and every time he opened his mouth there was a flash of sharp fangs, but he looked every part of an eager kid that talked about the latest cliffside he scaled or the new high score he made at the arcade.

It was strange to see the cheer directed at seals, though.

He turned back to Mabui and her anxious face and exhaled again. "Okay, okay, sorry. So,  _Kiba_ ," he said. "He hasn't tried to make an escape? Nothing turns up missing from the offices?"

"Not at all. Perhaps we believed them to be lying at the start, but," she frowned, "as per protocol for most established shinobi nations, if a shinobi doesn't report back to their village within three months of their return date an investigation is launched. If the investigation yields no results in the month after that, then the case files are more often than not marked MIA or KIA and left on a casual watch list." They both peered back through the window, catching Kiba's laugh as the dog set his paws on the table and wagged his tail. "We captured them in October, Darui-san. It's been six months since then. If anyone had been looking for them, they aren't anymore."

He knew no one was looking for them, but hearing it out loud left a bitter taste on his tongue.

Darui couldn't imagine what his life would've been like if he didn't have Kumo at his back. A village was only as good as the people that filled it, and since he would never allow his loyalty to Boss waver nor let himself turn his back on his friends, his comrades, his family, he couldn't even fathom waking alone in a cell after being left to die in the Lightning wilderness.

He remembered the day they'd brought in the team. Chuunin level at the highest, attacker unknown, their near-unconscious bodies waiting for the Border Patrol like a bleeding, barely breathing gift.

There were teeth marks in the Inuzuka's shoulder that sunk deep through the bone made by something like a tiger or a lion, but most likely one of those leopards that roamed the country, and a kunai stuck through each thigh. When Boss demanded more details of the scene, they said the boy had red eyes from tears and they could hear him screaming himself hoarse minutes before they got there.

He didn't think the circumstances would ever be clear to him with as little as anyone from the team wanted to talk about the incident. The other information they wanted they couldn't even  _ask_ with those disgusting seals on their tongues.

Darui rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. Of all the lost kids Kumo opened their arms to, why did the next bunch have to be Konohans?

Something cracked up his spine and through the muscles in his throat.

He and Mabui burst into the Seal Division workspace, him with a hand on the hilt of his cleaver sword and her armed with a handful of kunai she hid in the sleeves of her blazer.

All Darui saw was the explosion that left his ears ringing and that the Inuzuka— _Kiba_ —pushed a seals technician to the ground as the brunt of the blast sent him crashing through the tables behind him, one ear bleeding and his nin-dog partner diving towards the rigged seal to pull it further away from the rest of the people in the room.

:: ::

The ten-layered seal they were trying to unlock had fail safes buried in the matrices, one of which had been an explosive tag masked under a sequence that Kiba and Seals Technician Yotsuki Kiyoi of the Yotsuki Clan, one of the ridiculously few clans under Kumogakure, had accidentally overlooked when scanning the set-up for openings to break.

But that wasn't what snagged Darui's attention and dragged him back to the work room the very next morning; it was that the chuunin, the boy, the Konohan,  _Kiba_ , shoved Yotsuki away so he wouldn't get hit with the blast.

 _Seventy percent hearing loss in his right ear,_  C told them after assessing the damage and healing to the best of his ability. Yotsuki-san would have had it worse had he not avoided the explosion.  _How was that managed, by the way?_

Darui's gaze swept over the now cleaned division, empty for all except himself and the unsolved seal locked up tight at the other end of the room.

Kiba didn't have to save Yotsuki. He had no obligation, no ties, no camaraderie for his enemy shinobi. And really, it probably would have benefited him more if he hadn't pushed Yotsuki out the way, because even one downed Kumo-nin was a victory for the hopeless. Kumogakure was the Konohan's enemy, his chains, his warden.

And yet.

_"He's a nice boy."_

... Well, maybe "nice" wasn't the best word for it.

The clack of an opening door sounded behind him and he turned, expecting another inspection crew to gauge the room and take a look at the scroll responsible for the damage.

It wasn't an inspection crew.

It was Kiba who stepped in with his nin-dog hovering around his knees and two inked tags hanging off metal chains looped through his earlobes. He blinked when he met Darui's eyes, which were a little wider than his usual half-lidded stare, and scratched the back of his head with a sheepish grin.

"Mabui-san said I was pro'lly gonna have the room to myself since the team's gonna be out the rest of the week," he said in a way of greeting. "Uh, sorry if you didn't think I was comin'. Do you want me ta' go, uh, sir, or...?"

"Darui, and it's fine, sorry I'm in your way," Darui said. He glanced over at the boy, noting nothing much different save for the fashion statement dangling from his ears and the few bandages stuck on the visible spots of skin. "What are you doing out? Thought you'd want to recover after yesterday."

"Oh yeah, but I'm good now."

Darui blinked. As Kiba stood there with a sheepish grin and his hands in the pockets of his track jacket, he thought of the hoard of broken stables stacked just outside near the trash bins and the blood that stained the splintered bits.

"You're a prisoner, not a Kumo-nin," he stated bluntly. Kiba flinched minutely and Akamaru's tail droops. "No one's forcing you to buck up until there's someone that does. You just turned mostly  _deaf_ in one ear."

"Y'think that's gonna stop me?" the boy huffed. His eyes narrowed, feral at the edges as something stone cold spiked out from the dark depths of his pupils. Darui's bored expression morphed minutely at the sight—a sight far differed from the rowdy troublemaker he saw just the day before. This one was wired.  _Wild_. "I got banged up in that explosion, so what? I fixed it." He jabbed a thumb at the tags swinging near his face. "Diffusion and amplification seals. Shino told me 'bout hearing aids once and it's like the same thing, just for shinobi." Akamaru woofed lowly and pointed his snout towards the lock box, and his partner looked down. "Oh, right!"

And just like that, the darkness in his eyes was gone and the fanged grin touches back on his face. Darui could've gotten whiplash with how quick those emotions had come and gone, how they swirled in a way that he wasn't quite sure that even Kiba knew that he'd done it.

Was it from his time in the cells or something before that, Darui wondered.

"Heard they locked up that seal after it went off on us," Kiba said, ambling towards the metal safe in the corner of the room. "You have the key? I wanna take another stab at it, if that's cool."

The drive to work on the very thing that nearly killed him less than twenty-four hours ago startled Darui again, and this time he was getting annoyed by all these surprises. A prisoner was all this boy was; a young, abandoned, genius prisoner that Konoha let slip through their self-righteous fingers.

He was starting to see why Mabui liked him so much.

He nodded once. "Sure."

Darui twisted the safe lock as both Kiba and Akamaru glanced away to leave the combination out of their hands (honestly, what was that? The kid was out of his mind) and carefully set down the seal configuration on the closest unbroken table.

Kiba lit up immediately and unfurled the thick scroll until it spanned the length of his workspace as Akamaru curled into a ball close to his feet, head on his front paws and his eyes half-lidded as they never strayed from his partner.

 _'Loyal,'_ the Kumo jounin mused to himself as he plopped on a wooden stool opposite the boy. Elbows propped on the table and his chin in his hand, Darui watched as Kiba dipped a brush ink a newly opened bottle of ink and flew through matrices and sequences like he was born to do it.

It was intriguing to watch him work, honestly. Darui was never one for seals despite how integral of a part it had in Kumogakure's foundations. Every careful stroke of black and every messy scribble on scratch paper felt like standing in the middle of an art museum when you knew nothing about art; frankly confusing but entertaining all the same.

About thirty minutes into the comfortable silence, Kiba spoke.

"Um, Darui-san, is it true that Sakura's the sparring partner for this dude named Killer Bee?"

"If she's that pink-haired girl who's always with him, then yeah," he affirmed. He wasn't too sure of the name, but he'd caught a glimpse of the nin with one arm missing and the other clad in white bandages and a vambrace of blue-dyed yak hide most definitely meant to cover her prisoner identification.

"So she's okay?"

The genuine worry in Kiba's face hurt a bit to look at. If he remembered correctly, the Konohans had all been separated since the moment of capture and hadn't seen each other since.

"Okay enough that she can keep up with Bee-sama." Which was a trip in itself to find out. No one could keep up with Killer Bee—not with his eccentricities, not with whatever caught his attention next, and definitely not with the stamina he never seemed to run out of. But from the whispers that sometimes floated by him, the girl tried, and by  _god_ she tried.

He told Kiba bout the one-armed cliff climbing, the taijutsu spars that were said to last for hours, the way she apparently just didn't stop even though it was clear that she needed to.

And Kiba just laughed, his eyes flashing with a watery shine.

"She's always been like that, y'know," he grinned. "And Mabui-san told me 'bout Shino too, that he's workin' at the hospital and stuff and it's... it's good. That they're both okay." He glanced back at the place his and his team's sealed scrolls were kept, unbroken, and his grin fell off his face. "Um, Shino has a medical inventory book he likes ta' keep track of an' there's a sword Sakura like ta' use. Can uh, can you get those to them? They'd really like it. Please."

Darui stared blankly, blinked, and dropped his chin back into his hand. If he noticed the boy's eyes had grown even shinier, he didn't say anything about it. "I'll do what I can."

(Shino and Sakura get their things within the week.

But he didn't tell Kiba that.)

:: ::

**_April Howls Softly at the Moon_ **

:: ::

It had always been on Sakura's agenda that she learn one-handed seals. It would have been more practical that way with one hand molding chakra for jutsu while the other held a kunai or sword to deflect any bodies or projectiles that got in her way.

But then the Coliseum happened; Incident #2.

(She wasn't looking forward to whatever Incident #3 would have in store for them. Third time's a charm was the saying, but Unlucky Eight was never  _unlucky_ on a whim.)

Sakura swallowed down a few gulps of some energy drink brand they didn't have in Konoha and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, some of her pink hair falling into her eyes. She knew her chakra control was better than others. It had to be—she never had monstrous reserves like her father and no matter how much she trained, it was still one of the genes that never lent its favor.

But since her realization of it years ago, there were certainly jutsu she knew could make up for what she lacked. Luckily for her, she'd seen a prime example of one over and over again when she was still in Ame.

And once she mastered it, she would have to thank Kakuzu-san if she ever saw him again.

There was a tap on her shoulder and she turned her head only for a finger to poke her cheek as raucous laughter filled her ears.

She blinked. "Break's over, Bee-sama?"

"Ah, you're so cold, I don't think I've ever seen you pop a grin," he sighed, dropping onto the rock beside her. He knocked her knee with his and pushed up his sunglasses with a knuckle. "But we can take a longer break, give a rest to those bruises on your shins."

Sakura glanced down at her pants which had ripped off from her bandaged ankles and pulled up the cloth to the sight of mottled red, black, and blue. The mountains here weren't particularly soft, she thought dryly, and she'd scraped her legs against them every time she tried to dodge a hit by going low.

Shino would have a stroke if he found out she wasn—

A shutter knocks into her chest and her heart squeezed.

Seven months. That was how long it had been since she'd seen Shino's hands flare green and Kiba's face smudged in black ink and Akamaru with his tongue lolled out after a long run. She remembered each of their faces like she saw them just yesterday, but it was only in her luck that the last thing she could recall were Shino's and Akamaru's prone bodies and Kiba screaming to the heavens that wouldn't listen.

Seven months.

They probably looked a lot different now.

Her cheek got poked again. She turned her head to the other side. "Yes?"

"What's got ya' thinkin' way over there?" Bee asked. "You've got that thousand yard stare, I swear, I don't know where's your care."

Sakura set her drink by her katana. "I'd like to see my team, but under my circumstances, I know it's not possible." Bee's face was unreadable, as always, and she swore she'd learn to read the crinkles around his eyes. "They're alive, though, and as long as they are I won't have trouble waiting to see them again."

What she didn't say was that even if it took a million years, she would wait, because from her skin to her muscle to her bone to her core, she knew it was her fault they were here in the first place. If she hadn't been so  _different_ , they wouldn't have tipped the dominoes that landed them on Shimura Danzo's hit list.

If they hadn't met her, they'd be better off. She knew that.

(But she was selfish; she loved them and she didn't want to let them go.)

((She didn't know what she'd do if she lost someone like that again.

Her father was already enough.))

Bee was quiet and contemplating, like how he usually was half the time like he was having another conversation with someone else, somewhere else. Almost a minute later he came back to himself, a tilt to his lips as he rubbed the underside of his chin.

"Tell me somethin'," he said. He stuck one of his swords into the dirt and leaned against the hilt. Sakura frowned—what a way to treat a decent blade. "What was it like at that Coliseum?"

She was instantly reminded of the stale scent of settled dust and weeks old blood. Screams rang faintly in her ears and she can pinpoint the exact feeling a freshly sharpened ax cut through flesh and bone as she saved the one person she  _shouldn't_ have.

She felt a sharp sting in her left arm just where her wrist would have been, and she looked down. Still, nothing. Just bandaged right at the bend of her elbow. "Think of it as dog fighting for bets. Except the dogs are anyone they could kidnap and collar and the ones making bets are the corrupt rich." She tore her eyes away from her arm and fixed her gaze at a spot far off in the distance. "But it wasn't the worst. It was training with consequences; I didn't have to like it to know that it helped."

"Help? Help with what?"

:: ::

Bee was starting to put the pieces together.

Ever since he'd chanced upon her at Catatumbo, there had always been something off. He noticed, Gyuu noticed, and he was sure C and Mabui and Enmu and A noticed if her and her team had yet to have their bodies burned and their ashes sealed into the earth. The girl was young but she wasn't stupid, and she fought nothing like those Konohans with their "moral high ground" and subpar kenjutsu skills.

And... sometimes, when they walked through the village he'd get snubbed by the older Kumor as usual. Sakura never asked or treated him differently when she saw, but once when someone made an off-handed muttering about her hanging around the wrong sort, she'd simply blinked, turned, and said,  _"The only wrong sort I see is somebody who can't mind their own business. Look me in the eyes and say that again."_

Bee had snorted into his hand when the passing citizen paled and quickened their pace down the street, and Gyuuki had sat quiet and pensive as the girl, blank-faced and cold, turned back around and continued her walk, the scars on her shoulder flashing from under her shirt.

She was someone he wanted to get to the bottom of because, well, he liked the kid. Prisoner or not.

**_'You're an idiot.'_ **

_'What's up with you crampin' my style, Gyuu? Go make some friends, maybe you'll find out somethin' new.'_

**_'Make friends while trapped in your thick head?'_ **

_'I could always introduce ya' to Sak—'_

**_'Pass.'_ **

Bee huffed quietly and asked Sakura about the Coliseum. Her answer wasn't quite what he expected.

"But it wasn't the worst," she said. "It was training with consequences; I didn't have to like it to know that it helped."

Some of that iciness trailed back into her face. She wasn't much of an expressive person to begin with, but he was starting to think that her chill wasn't as innate as he first thought. But Gyuu's interest piqued at her words—neither of them would describe a 'kill or be killed' situation as a training experience, much less one that made for a lot of learning opportunities.

"And how many training opportunities did ya' get, that ya' managed to work a sweat?"

The look she gave him said that she could see his question for what it was— _her kill count_ —but she answered with another beat. "One hundred twenty-four during the rounds. Twenty during our escape. One hundred forty four in all."

Bee opened his mouth, a frown in the corners of his mouth and a question bursting on his tongue, but then there was the tell-tale tingle at the back of his neck as Gyuu's warm, heavy chakra washed over him. Pale pink pupil-less irises melted over the whites of his eyes behind his dark lenses, and he straightened in his seat.

" ** _One hundred forty four,_** " Gyuuki's voice drawled from Bee's mouth. Sakura's eyes narrowed slightly, but other than that she offered no other movement. Even he had to nod to the small part of him that found it so damn interesting. " ** _Why did you think it was necessary to keep count?_** "

"It's important to keep a track record," she answered. "Keep yourself in check because no one else will."

" ** _And for your team?_** "

"One hundred eighteen for Shino, one hundred sixteen for Kiba."

It didn't skip his notice that the number of her kills exceed the other two by a substantial margin. Gyuuki might not completely understand how humans worked or why they thought pitting themselves against one another could ever be fun, but he was sure an institution like the Coliseum could only work on a system that its victims had to follow to a T.

_'So what're you sayin'? It's not like you to find somethin' dismayin'.'_

Gyuuki didn't get to reply to his curious host, because the girl at his side shifted to face him better and bent down into a short, polite bow. "I haven't introduced myself, but you've probably seen me through Bee-sama," she said. "I'm Sakura. It's nice to meet you."

There wasn't an ounce of fear in the slope of her shoulders and her tone was as bold and genuine as it had been when Bee found her pushing herself to fatigue in one of Catatumbo's empty concrete cells.

The first thing he realized was that she knew he was a tailed beast.

The second thing he realized was that even when the scars on her shoulder had been caused by one of his siblings, she didn't treat him any differently than she treated Bee.

 _'It's nice, isn't it,'_  Bee remarked gently, his voice a soft brush against the back of the head.  _'To get treated like you ain't some outcast misfit.'_

" ** _...Call me Hachibi._** "

And he relinquished control back to his host, receding back to the open space of his seal.

He said nothing for the rest of the day, his mind too filled with thoughts of weird little Ameks and their mannerisms.

:: ::

He was going to lose his mind, he just knew it.

Motoi stared at the pink-haired kid standing in front of him, a katana slung across her back and probably the blankest expression he'd ever seen on anyone across her face. He hoped she didn't notice how much he was losing his shit on the inside, but yeah, in all the years he'd been stationed as head supervisor on Genbu, the Turtle Island, he'd never had someone just... show up. Maybe she was lost? Yes, lost. Just happened to wander onto Kumo's sentient training ground that was literally an enormous turtle that floated around the coast as she pleased.

"I don't think I'm supposed to be here," were the first words that came between the two of them, and Motoi's face slowly dropped into his hands.

"I see," he sighed. He inhaled deeply before he rubbed the dark green tattoo over the bridge of his nose. "Well, you're here now, so I suppose there's no harm in registering you. The barriers signaled another body upon arrival, though—may I have your names and villages of residence?"

"Sakura, no surname. I was originally from Imvula, but I've been staying in Kumo to improve my kenjutsu," she replied.

"Imvula? The border town close to the South Coasts?" he questioned. At her nod, he hummed and tucked the information at the back of his head. Imvula, the Rain Village, no correlation with Amegakure, the Village  _Hidden_ in the Rain. "Alright. Your companion, then?"

"Killer Bee-sama. I've heard that all the Kumo-nin know him."

Motoi's back went rigid, but he hid it as best he could as he pulled a small notebook from his vest to flip through his notes and prior registries. Of  _course_ Killer Bee had to catch him off guard with a visit today; the one person he could never look in the eye that brought along a strange kid that wouldn't break eye contact if he wasn't the one to do it first.

But karma hated him anyways, so he might as well go with it.

"I don't know if Bee-sama's told you, but he's made friends with every animal on the island including Genbu herself and with every visit he takes the time to greet most of them, if not all."

"... Ah."

"You could do as you please here, really, as long as you're not harming any of the inhabitants or causing intentional damage. Which you're not going to do, are you?"

She quirked a brow. "Not that I planned."

He narrowed his eyes. "I'll take your word for that. Against my better judgment." He shook his head. "But if you're going to wait for Bee-sama, I suggest training at one of the many available fields except field number six, or find something to keep you otherwise occupied for the hours you're probably going to spend here."

"I'll train then," Sakura said. "Field six, that's the one two to the left from the entrance, right?"

"Yes." Motoi blinked. "Wait, how did you know that?" He knew the field numbers by heart from all the years he'd worked here, but the numbered posts had all been taken down some days ago and the new replacements had yet to be repainted.

"It's the only one with a genjutsu over it."

"How long did it take for you to see it?"

"A minute or so. It caught my attention when I was walking towards you." Her blank eyes twisted with calculation as she squinted. "Why?"

Why? Because it shouldn't have taken a measly minute for one of his genjutsu to get noticed, especially when the purpose of the one over field six was to direct people's attention away from it without realizing their attention was being forced elsewhere. Normally it would catch a shinobi's eye if they'd been on the island long enough to figure something wasn't quite right, but this girl comes in and does it immediately? On the first visit?

"You're a genjutsu type," he noted with surprise. Her brows furrowed. "Oh, were you not aware? Only genjutsu types could have seen through an illusion like that so quickly."

"I might have noticed something once," she replied. (She remembered holding her father's hand in a cemetery and seeing trees that looked so  _wrong_ in her eyes before a kunai came from them and clipped her arm.) "But I never got trained in it."

And that was odd. Because her talent for it, from what he'd seen, could be curbed into something extraordinary.

"Did you ever want to learn?" He tucked his notebook back into his vest and took a seat on the trunk of a felled tree. Sakura eyed him warily, but took the open invitation and sat a step or two away with only the slightest hesitation.

"I guess it was something I never got to focus on."

"Are you interested in learning?"

"Are you offering to teach?" she shot back.

Motoi leaned back with a hum. Her defensiveness shouldn't surprise him—here he was, a complete stranger trying to pry into the history of her skills and talents. She had every right to be worried and didn't seem used to the Kumo-way of scooping up the worst to make them the best, and scooping up the best to make them better.

When he thought about it, he supposed teaching wouldn't be so bad. With all the time he'd spent on Genbu passing the years with only animals and short visits from other Kumo shinobi as company, it got a little lonely from time to time. He was lucky he usually preferred the quiet and the solitude and the sound of rolling waves that pushed against Genbu's great sides.

But, teaching wouldn't be too bad.

"I suppose I am," he answered honestly, lips tipping up at the first time the girl broke her expressionless mask by letting her eyes grow a fraction. They quickly snapped back to a glare, though, as her own arm shifted closer to the katana at her hip.

"What's in it for you?"

"I'll get my first student to continue on what I know. That's a good enough reason to want to take you under my wing, isn't it?" He shrugged. "But it's your choice. I'm just a jounin who's only getting older."

Her stance didn't lighten and her hand continued to hover over the hilt of her blade, and if she kept looking into his eyes she would see the way dark depths sparked in approval. He didn't have to ask her to prove herself, he didn't need to fight her to make her show her resilience.

In the way she never let up, the way she persevered with everything she must have lost...

It was proof enough for him that she must already be someone exemplary.

Eventually, Sakura lowered herself into a slight bow. "I would be pleased to take you up on your offer...?"

"Motoi." He clapped her shoulder a few times to get her to straighten up. "Nice to meet your acquaintance, Sakura-san."

Not too far away, Bee smiled to himself as he scaled a tree to watch a number of Himalayan Jumping Spiders crawl around the branches.

:: ::

**_But May Was Never Kind_ **

:: ::

The hospital was stressful. There were medics rushing the halls, nurses filling out paperwork, beeps and clunks and clicks sounding off in the building that would never hush. It was bustling, it was frantic, it was chaos—

And Shino loved it.

He didn't know exactly when the idleness started on him like an itch he couldn't scratch, but he noticed how quick irritation started to settle if he wasn't reading or writing or sewing strands of muscle together. His kikai felt the same way too, and Shino managed to convince C to at least let his colony flit around the vents and blame the noise on the air conditioning.

He stopped by a window in the hall, one hand in his white coat pocket and the other holding open the file he's in the middle of reading. The skies aren't the same deep blue like in Konoha and much of it was drowned out by the clouds.

Everything was paler and the sun didn't feel quite as yellow.

And even though nothing was the same, the village was like a breath of fresh air in his lungs.

"Shino-sensei!" a nurse called ahead of him. "C-sensei requires your assistance in Emergency Room Three!"

"On my way!" he returned. As he hurried toward the stairs and made his way down to the first floor, he paper-clipped the page he left off and set it on the administration desk before he slipped into the emergency room. He pulled on a pair of gloves from the rack on the wall and tugged them on as he shut the door behind him and approached the burned, unconscious body on the bed.

Odd that it's only C and him there, and there were no nurses checking vitals.

"Training injury?"

"Field mission," C corrected. Shino assesses the angry red burns that curled, leaving no centimeter unscathed with the sheer amount of top skin layer that had been singed right off. He brushed some of the stray blonde hair that was soaking up blood from the wounds.

He'd seen those burns before.

"Tailed beast chakra," he recognized. C flinched, his head shooting up. "It causes permanent disfigurement no matter how severe the injury and requires immediate attention to address possible internal damage."

"How did you—"

"I've treated it before." An image of Sakura's dim apartment flashed behind his eye and there was a phantom feeling of blood on his fingers, sweat on his brow, and a tunneling vision from the sight of burnt cloth buried in weeping gashes. He shook his head and clenched his fists when the threat of tremors started to creep down his arms. "There's not much we can do but assure whatever needs to be healed  _is_ healed." But when he lowered his head back towards the body, he saw the tips of their patient's finger slowly but surely knitting itself into a normal skin color. "What..."

"This... isn't a typical Kumo-nin," C started reluctantly, but Shino had already turned his ear away as his brain kicked into overdrive. Chakra burns, self-healing, only him and C attending to the patient; only one viable explanation rose and he supposed it wasn't a stretch.

"No, because this is a jinchuuriki," he interrupted, and the medic across from him paled. "How did I come to this conclusion? Those capable of wielding healing chakra are scarce in Kumo, as you've once told me, and I doubt any of them are capable of such an advanced healing capability that can be utilized in an unconscious state. In fact, the only person who may be able to perform such a feat is Senju Tsunade." He tilted his head, oblivious to the way C tensed.

"Look, if you have any problem with jinchuuriki I suggest you—"

"Whatever needs to be done has to be within the short window between time of injury and the end of the healing period," Shino continued, too engrossed in his thought process to have heard anything at all. His hands flared a careful mint green as he hovered one hand over the torso and the other over the heart. "Thirty minutes is my estimate." He glanced up and frowned. "C-sensei?"

C blinked out his stupor, his hands glowing chakra-scalpel blue and a slight smile on the corner of his lips. "We need to get the bone shards out of her left arm and right leg before they're completely healed in and we have to dig it out ourselves. Remember what I taught you about using chakra as a tool?"

"Stay away from the veins as much as possible."

"Good, keep it in mind. Let's get to work."

:: ::

The jinchuuriki's name was Nii Yugito and she was host to the Two-Tailed Cat. Many looked up to her and her skill and just as many, if not more, feared her all the same.

Shino lent an ear to the whispers of his colleagues where he'd learnt just a couple of things. One, of all the times she'd come to the hospital, only C and the same one nurse had come to her aid. Two, the longest she'd ever been unconscious without signs of waking was twelve hours, most likely due to the nature of her beast.

It had been twenty-four hours since he'd been called to assist her healing and she hadn't even twitched.

There was something wrong, and Shino was going to figure out what it was.

Call it intuition or paranoia, but a sudden change for anything called for suspicion. From all the eavesdropping he'd done on his classmates at the Academy to the spying he'd done once he started to carry the Unlucky Eight name, he learned how crucial it was to never count out the 'stupid' or 'impossible'. Underestimation led to downfalls, and downfalls could lead to death.

On one of his breaks he entered Yugito's room and flipped through the clipboard hung on the foot of the bed. Because there was no nurse that accompanied him on the clock as per C's orders (just to mind his training, was the excuse, because they couldn't just say a prisoner couldn't wander without supervision), the door was cracked wide open.

"No change," he muttered to himself. "How is there no change? All the medication has been given, all internal and external injuries have been healed..."

He walked around to the IV bag and took a sample of the solution. A quick glance out the door showed no one passing by, and he wasted no time dropping the sample into a vial of clear liquid he'd produced from his coat. A quick inversion of the container and the mixture remained clear, free of any indicative color.

That ruled out sabotage, then.

Shino straightened one of Yugito's pale arms and searched for a vein near the joint of her elbow. He pricked her freshly healed skin and smeared some of her blood on the pad of his thumb. Plucking out the medical inventory book C returned to him two months ago, he opened to the back cover where his self-made pocket still held the seal papers Kiba drew up with a jutsu Sakura manufactured one night after dinner.

One bloody thumb-print later, the seal brightened and dimmed, but didn't change color either.

"If nothing's wrong with her blood either, perhaps..."

His eye drifted towards the door again. Even after running every possible consequence in his head, he shut the door, locked it, and let his kikai swirl around the room.

:: ::

C tapped his pen against his desk as he sat in his office, tens of papers waiting for his signature but his thoughts a million miles away. It was about that time of year again for staff evaluations that would eventually be read over by the Cirrus Central Hospital head and then eventually Raikage-sama himself, and rarely was there ever an employee that came out with a poor assessment.

Which came to the problem of the newest medic working the rounds.

When he picked Shino up from Catatumbo, he was expecting a medic that could at the very least take up the slack and keep the rest of them from shouldering too much work. He thought the hospital would have a new medic to take on simple cases like broken skin and snapped bones, or would take up the duty of going through the routine check ups all shinobi were required to attend to once a year.

But what did he end up getting? He got a medic that could pick up a plethora of anomalies three minutes after a simple scan, could be as efficient without chakra as he was with chakra, and could  _correctly identify chakra burns by sight_  and hold no prejudice for any patient he worked with.

And much to his disgruntlement, those things he listed were only the few of many.

To put it simply, Shino was  _brilliant_ and he had no idea how Konoha let this one go.

He frowned. And if the boy had been left to rot in Catatumbo, there would have been nothing left of him but scar tissue and healing hands.

A knock on the door resounded, and C straightened. "Come in." A nurse bustles through and set another stack of files by his side. He withheld a sigh. "More evaluations?"

"Got it in one." She smiled pityingly. “This is the last batch of them, if that makes you feel any better."

"A bit. Thank you," he said. He clicked the top of his pen before setting it down. "If you're going past the break room, could you get Shino for me? I need to talk to him about some of the upcoming appointments we have later today."

"Oh, he's not in there."

C could pinpoint the exact moment his blood started to freeze.

“What do you mean?”

“I stopped by the break room before coming here and the only one in there was Q-sensei eating his lunch and—C-sensei?”

C was up on his feet before he even got a chance to think and brushed past the nurse with a quick _'excuse me'_. His office was on the top of seven floors and there was an endless amount of units he could check to find the wayward medic.

 _'Had I let my guard down? Was he waiting for the perfect moment?'_  He burst through every door he passed and looked through every single viewing window.  _'What was I thinking, letting him roam and interact with the Kumo citizens? I shouldn't have been so desperate—I shouldn't have taken the chance.'_

He'd skimmed three floors before he was struck with a thought.

C shunshinned to the second floor, the step-down unit were all patients were under intermediate care and ran towards recovery room eight. In the plastic pouch on the wall just outside was the file labeled  _Nii Yugito_  with her shinobi identification picture of all to see.

He grasped the door handle and tried to turn it. It didn't budge.

There was a rush in his ears as he tightened his grip and forced it in so hard that his hand went through the door and ripped the locking mechanism from its frame.

C barged through the door, and the scene that welcomed him was one that he probably wouldn't forget.

Blood streaked out of Yugito's nose and ears as Shino stood by her bedside, black insects on half her face and half of his as he cradled a wriggling mass of white worms in the palms of his hands.

"There were parasites in her brain," Shino greeted. One of the worms dropped onto the floor and a small team of kikai swoop down to immobilize it. C's jaw unhinged. "When would you like to conduct further research?"

:: ::

Itachi didn't feel it was right for him to intrude on his partner's space; he was entitled to his own secrets and traditions, and perhaps in this case, his times of mourning the wife and daughter he barely spoke of.

Kisame sat in front of a grave, cross-legged and rain pouring over his uncovered head. His cloak was absent as well as Samehada, and the grounds were alight in neon white depictions of lambs and lions that ran all the way from the gravestones to the brick walls that barred the cemetery. Just like the rest of the art that scattered Amegakure, even these ones had meaning, and they might as well have been the most sentimental of them all.

Itachi shifted from his spot beneath an overhang just a ways behind the graveyard gates, just out of his partner's line of sight but his partner perfectly in line with his.

Kisame was never a quiet, somber sort of fellow. There was always a friendly air about him despite his pointed teeth and the way his posture screamed for a fight. He joked as he pleased and laughed out loud all the same, but there was never an ounce of disrespect he carried in his huge, muscled body. Every opponent he addressed with the same courtesy as his comrades and he always upheld his top moral of never killing or harming children.

 _A kind criminal_ , Itachi thought. Maybe it was a bit oxymoronic and maybe that description won't ever make sense, but at this point he doubted he'd ever meet another person like Hoshigaki Kisame—someone who had no reason to look upon the world with a chuckle and a grin, but did anyways.

And, someone who always seemed to remember his favorite types of tea and the off-fact that he always liked eating dango in even sticks, never odds.

Itachi's brow furrowed.

The rain continued its merciless onslaught and he unconsciously tightened his cloak around himself as his breath came out in puffs of faint white. Now that he thought about it, it was Kisame who nagged him to go to his appointments, cooked his favorite meals whenever he happened to be at his apartment, could always manage to find a book at the bookstore that he himself was never interested, but Itachi was always surprised to enjoy.

He scoffed lightly and shook his head.

 _'It's his kindness,'_  he thought softly,  _'that I always seem to be taking advantage of.'_

"He's visiting his daughter today, it seems."

Konan appeared beside him, aloof and as chilled as the air around them with her arms crossed over her middle and not a single drop of rain on her skin. Itachi tilted his head.

"You know of his daughter."

"I used to look after her whenever Kisame-san was away," she said. She glanced at him briefly before her gaze flickered back to the cemetery. "I understand your confusion. It's hard for him to speak of her even after all this time."

Itachi didn't blame Kisame. He can't. How could he, when even at night when he was all alone and his parents' names refused to leave his lips without a burning in his throat and tears swelling just behind his eyes. He regretted and regretted and regretted and regretted, and when he looked at Kisame it was almost like he never did. He lost everything, they both had, but for Kisame it was never his own fault.

That was the difference between them. Because Kisame was a good man,

_'And I'm not.'_

"I believe it was best for the two of you to be partners," Konan said. "It's good for you. The both of you."

Itachi turned back to ask what she meant, but there was nothing beside him but the cold and the rain.

:: ::

"I heard you were the one that saved my life."

Nii Yugito leaned against the entryway of Greenhouse Five and watched as a boy spun around in his chair, his sample left in the microscope and his goggle-glasses hanging around his neck. She noticed how his right eye shined and didn't move in tune with the other, but before she could observe further, his gloves were peeled off and in the nearby trash can and he was readjusting the glasses over his face.

**_'My, it turns out the boy is as interesting as C-san made him sound.'_ **

"I noticed the parasites," he replied. He stood to smooth the wrinkles in his coat and extended his hand. "Shino. It's good to see you've made a full recovery, Nii-san."

She took his hand and gave a firm shake and a friendly smile. "You dug around my brain a couple days ago, Shino-san. Call me Yugito."

"Yugito-san, then," he acquiesced. He gestured towards his work bench. "Would you like to take a look at what nearly killed you?"

"Morbid," she snorted. "But sure."

Yugito leaned over the table and peered into the twin ocular lenses he pointed out on the microscope. Under the harsh white light under the viewing table, she spied a few flat things writhing in the petri dish.

"These worms are of a chakra-consuming variety," Shino explained. He picked up a scalpel and directed her gaze to the thin, pink lines that sprouted from its ends. His fingers were covered in scars, she saw, and it seemed to extend past the bandages and his sleeves. "They have the ability to mask themselves in what they devour, making it nearly undetectable for medics since they complete most screenings with chakra as well."

"So how did you spot them?"

"I employ the use of non-chakra standard scans," he replied. "Why? There is a chance to catch things that chakra cannot, as exhibited with your case." He set the lid on the petri dishes and raised his head back up to her. "Prior to your admission to the hospital, have you gone swimming in questionable waters or consumed meat that hadn't been fully cooked?"

She blinked. "Oh, uh, I had some fish from a stagnant lake, but I thought I wouldn't have to worry about that if I cooked it through enough." Her gaze followed his hand as he jotted down bullet points on his notepad.

_\- Heat resistant? Devise experiment._

_\- Life span without viable hose? Continue current experiment._

_\- Living conditions? Follow up with C._

_\- Visit Cirrus Central's store rooms for more samples._

He was a more competent medic, Yugito mused. When she'd woken up at the hospital mildly disoriented and Matatabi hissing at her in furious worry in her head, C had come in shortly after with an account of just what happened to her and the fact that he  _hadn’t_ been the attending medic at the time of the parasites’ discovery.

That probably surprised her more than anything; she was a younger jinchuuriki with far less social pull and experience than Bee, and much of the hospital staff were wary of taking her on ever since that incident of an intern burning their hands on Matatabi’s chakra and scorching the ends of those nerves.

It wasn’t like it was her fault the intern hadn’t been paying attention, but the damage was already done and she was pushed further on the outskirts of Kumo’s social circles.

"As long as you continue to take your medication as directed, all of the parasite residues should be cleared from your system and your name can return to the active mission roster in two weeks' time," Shino said. "If you have any questions, feel free to ask."

 ** _'There are scars on his neck as well, Yugito-chan,'_**  Matatabi remarked with lingering interest. Her tails flicked behind her in her host's mindscape.  ** _'Those are most certainly self-inflicted.'_**

Yugito pulled back from the microscope and planted her hands on her hips. "I've got just one: who are you?"

His brow furrowed. "Who am I? As in, my origins? I hail from Imvula—"

"C told me the same thing, but I knew it was a lie from the moment he told me. And seeing you now only cements that truth," she said. The crease between Shino's eyebrows leveled out as he tucked both hands in his coat pockets. “Other than that, you certainly don't have the subtle lilt in your vowels that all natives share." She smiled. "It's quite a small border town, Shino-san, and while you and C have everyone else fooled, I'm sorry to say it hasn't swayed me."

"Then there's not much I can say," he admitted. "It's all under C-sensei's jurisdiction, but all the time I spend out of the hospital is in Catatumbo Penitentiary. Why?" Her eyes blew wide as they tried to search for the lie in his face. "I'm certainly not a guard, which leaves the only other option."

Yugito was stunned.

Her life was saved by a foreign prisoner.

'Who knows I'm a jinchuuriki, but doesn't care regardless.' And he must be trusted, especially after the stunt with her case, because he was the only one in this greenhouse and she knew C well enough that he would've never let a prisoner to themselves if they posed even the slightest threat to the village.

**_'And what does that mean to you?'_ **

_'That if he doesn't care that you're with me, then...'_

A smile was back on her face, but it was much softer than the last. "I just remembered what I came here for." She bowed deeply, and Shino shuffled a surprised few steps backwards. "I wanted to thank you for saving my life, and that you'll have my unending gratitude for everything you've done."

"Yugito-san, there's no need to thank me. Why? Because all I've done is my job," he protested.

"And that's more to say than a lot of other people," she replied with only a drop of resigned bitterness in her voice. But it was gone when she addressed him again as she took in just how young he was. Too young to have been captured and locked in Catatumbo. Too young to have possibly known about the parasites in her brain when no one else did. But here he was. "I would've died if it weren't for you."

He ducked his head. "I had only done what was necessary."

Matatabi purred, satisfied.  ** _'Ah, how modest. Such a rare find these days.'_**

"Well whatever you call it, I'm thankful for." Yugito glanced through the glass walls of the greenhouse. "Sorry I have to cut this visit short, I need to meet with Raikage-sama to turn in my mission report." She flashed him one last smile before she headed for the exit. "But I'll see you around. Let me know if you need anything, alright?"

She turned around—

"Actually, Yugito-san, could you do one thing for me?"

—but the call from behind has her looking back over her shoulder.

"Please be careful when eating fish from dubious bodies of water," he deadpanned. "Brain parasites truly aren't a prime source of nutrition."

She laughed. "I'll do my best."

She would definitely pay more visits to the hospital from now on.

:: ::

**_And in June, the Rain Would Swoon_ **

:: ::

Kiba had been combing out a pretty ridiculous knot from Akamaru's fur when his cell door clicked and swung open, revealing Darui in his usual uniform with his sword slung along his back.

Kiba cocked his head. "Uh, didya' need me for somethin' else?" he questioned slowly. "Mabui-san walked me back probably, like, an hour ago and it was pretty dark when we were comin' back so, oh shit, wait, are you guys gonna kill me? Like, is this it? Okay, well, I guess it took you guys long enough but I thought we really had a thing goin'—"

"You're not getting executed," the jounin interrupted amusedly, holding off a snort at how the boy sagged in relief. Someone might as well have told him he wouldn't have to take a test and he would've reacted the same way. "You're getting transferred to another cell. Get your things and come on."

"Wh—another cell?" Kiba hefted himself to his feet and swooped his scrolls, ink, and brushes into his arms, and Akamaru scrambled onto all fours and latched onto his partner's spare clothes. They were led out the hall and up the spiraling stairs instead of the usual downwards. "Somethin' wrong with ours?"

"Did you like your old cell?"

"Nah, it sucks," he answered honestly. This time, Darui did snort. "But I'm pretty sure that was normal prisoner treatment. You sure we're definitely not gettin' killed?"

"Do you  _want_ to be?"

"Uh, no, but I'm just  _askin_ '."

They ended up somewhere on the top floors, Kiba noted cautiously. One had an open entrance with no door, and a quick glance inside showed him a clean space with room for storage. But the other had the same thick metal door as his old cell, and as Darui swung it open and ushered him inside, he saw...

He blinked. And again. Then he rubbed his eyes with his sleeves and blinked a few more times and strained himself to make sure his eyes weren't acting up.

The new cell was as big as Sakura's apartment back in Konoha; the walls were painted a cream color and a bookshelf spanned an entire half of one wall. To its right was a plain gray couch and to the wall adjacent was a cluster of beds that Akamaru carefully poked at with a damp nose.

"What's..."

Across from the book shelf was a connecting door that led to a bathroom equipped with a single sink, a toilet, and a shower head all surrounded by white tile. Kiba slowly set his things down on the small brown table near the shelf and turned towards the door.

"What's this?"

Darui gestured lazily. "Your new cell." At the sight of Kiba gazing up at him with some newfound wonder, he averted his eyes (shame, it must have been when he reflected on it later). "This is the ninth month you've been at Catatumbo and the sixth month you've loaned your services to the Seals Division. Mabui-san and I were able to pull a couple of strings." He hummed. "Well, us and a few others." He coughed to clear his throat. "I'll leave you to settle down."

The door shut but Kiba barely heard it. One of his hands dropped to thread through the fur on Akamaru's head.

He didn't know how long he stood there staring at the clean walls and carpeted floor and the couch he could already imagine himself taking day-long naps on.

He couldn't remember the feeling of sleeping on something that didn't have springs digging into his back or wasn't a concrete floor. The other cell was a gray brick with nothing in it and the Coliseum cell had just been a rotting, dilapidated—

Akamaru barked frantically, and Kiba's head snapped over to the beds.

Beds.  _Plural_.

"I-Is... that..."

There was the sound of the door unlocking again and he spun around, nearly knocking his shin into the table.

Shino walked in, and they made eye contact for the first time in nine months.

"Shi— _OOF_!"

Kiba couldn't manage another syllable as he was lifted into the air and crushed into sturdy arms and the deafening sound of kikaichu buzzes. A face pressed into the crook of his neck and a pair of arms locked around his middle like they hung on for dear life, and before he knew it, he was stifling the choked sobs that clogged his throat as he wrapped his own arms around his friend's neck and breathed in the familiar scent of herbs and antiseptic and old books.

"You grew out your hair," Kiba sniffed, a hand coming up to feel the high bun atop Shino's head.

"And you got new earrings," Shino mumbled. They pulled away with their hands still on each other's sleeves, and Shino braced himself to keep steady as the now-enormous Akamaru dove into his side. Kiba grinned sheepishly and scratched the back of his head.

"So I got a story 'bout that, actually..."

"What does  _that_ mean?"

"Okay, but don't get mad—"

Akamaru suddenly wiggled until he was back on the ground, his tail wagging so fast it was nearly a blur.

Kiba and Shino shifted back towards the door.

It wasn't closed.

And Sakura stood in the threshold, over a full head taller than them both and pink hair cropped to the base of her neck.

More tears burst past Kiba's eyes and he shouted the first thing that popped in his head. "Why the  _fuck_ are you so tall you  _goddamn sasquatch_?!"

He ran and jumped into her, her good arm latching around his waist as he clung on. Shino and Akamaru weren't too far behind and their combined weights were enough to barrel them all into a pile by the bookshelf.

Kiba's shoulder smacked against the table, Sakura knocked the back of her head on the floor, Shino ended up a starfish over the both of them with all of Akamaru's paws planted on his back.

"I'm not tall," Sakura murmured. Her right arm held Kiba as close as she could hold him and she buried her face on the top of Shino's head. "Not my fault you can't grow."

She still smelled of polished steel and fresh bandages and rain at its most violent, and it only made Kiba cry harder.

It had been so long since he'd felt this warm.

It had been so long since he'd been  _home_.


	4. Of Every Cloud

**_In July, We've Grown Weary_ **

:: ::

He'd come to Konoha a few times over the long stretch of months with his siblings to help with the reparations and show their support as Sunagakure's representatives. But this was the first time he'd come with the official title of  _Ambassador_ after a six month high strung politics training, and as Kankuro stood before the tall wooden gates with his hands in his pockets and a new puppet prototype strapped to his back, he figured he would have enough time to try and track down The Worst Tourist Guide He'd Ever Met.

Nara Shikamaru was waiting for him at the gates with a slouch and a tired yawn.

"Oversleep again?" he snorted.

"Maa, more like I didn't get enough," the Konoha-nin sighed. He took the other's outstretched hand and shook before they started a slow walk side by side into the bright village. "I'll be your escort every time you visit, by the way. Since you're the official Sunagakure Ambassador and all."

Sunagakure Ambassador. Temari still made fun of the official robes the council assigned that he always managed to 'lose'.

Kankuro grinned. "You sure you won't fall asleep on the job?"

"I told Tsunade-sama my concerns. All she told me was to 'cut my bullshit and get out her office'."

They talked about some trivial things on their easy amble to the Kage Tower, like the recent shogi tournament held in Fang Country and the odd change of CEOs a string of companies suddenly took up since sometime late last year, like with Hisan I.E., the Cerdo Foundation, or The Povi Co., just to name a few.

At a lull in their conversation, the both of them basking in companionable silence, Kankuro glanced at the buildings and red-tiled roofs so singular to the Konoha landscape. Construction looked like it was going well with scaffolding and workers in only scattered parts of the village instead of the whole half of it.

And while he did feel guilty for letting the Konoha Crush go that far, a part of him was still curious about how much  _apathy_ Sakura held in regards to it. She didn't want the citizens hurt or anything like that, but she'd been content to watch the fires blaze as long as no one was there to burn down with it.

Speaking of Sakura, Shikamaru probably knew her, right? They were all in the Chuunin Exams together and were part of those rookies. Rookie Ten? Rookie Six. No, well, Rookie Some Number.

"Hey, so," he started. Shikamaru blinked and turned his head, mildly curious. "Do you know Sakura? Pink hair, was in our Chuunin Exams? I've been meaning to talk to her about something."

Then, Shikamaru did the weirdest thing.

He  _winced_.

"Yeah..." he drew out. "You probably haven't heard." His voice dropped a pitch like he was about to tell a secret that wasn't his, and Kankuro immediately set on edge. "Her and the rest of Team Eight were supposed to be on a long-term mission with no exact end date, but a few months ago they got declared MIA. No one really knows the details, but at this point, everyone's leaning towards KIA."

"You're kidding."

"It's, uh, it's kinda a sore topic for our year. We weren't really friends, but you know."

"But—"

Kankuro clamped his mouth shut. The last time they'd ever spoken was when she admitted that Konoha meant nothing to her.

But dead? Sakura the Tourist Guide was  _dead_? No way. Not a goddamn chance. Not with how she pulled her punches at the preliminaries or how she ignored her village's will by chatting with him in the forest instead of fighting him until one of them couldn't stand anymore.

Shikamaru rubbed the back of his neck. "The whole thing's troublesome, but..." He sighed. "Do me a favor?"

Kankuro tried to push off his oncoming headache. "Yeah, what's up?"

"If you ever see a jounin with black hair and red eyes, don't bring them up to her," he warned. His black eyes were grim with resignation in his pressed lips. "She was their sensei and it hit her pretty hard."

:: ::

"Oi, Kotetsu."

Kotetsu's head slipped out the palm that propped it up as his chin very nearly smacked against the reporting desk at the south entrance of the village. He leaned back to avoid a face full of wood but grabbed the edge of the desk when his chair tipped too far and its legs threatened to give out from right under him. "Huh? Yeah? What's up?"

Izumo handed him a few files and took the empty seat to the side. "You forgot to sign all the reports you wrote up yesterday."

"Oh shi—hand me a pen, I'll get 'em out and delivered real quick."

"It's not due until noon, you've got a couple of hours."

"Yeah, but I shouldn't have—ah fuck, hold on."

Kotetsu hunched over the desk to quickly scribble his name at the bottom of each page, and the moment his eyes were on the sheets, Izumo's smile turned pitying.

Ever since he'd told his partner about the fate of his one and only student, everything had played out just the way he thought. Kotetsu didn't believe him at first, saying it was only a B-ranked mission they couldn't have been killed on. The next morning, he found Kotetsu in the kitchen idly pushing eggs around his plate with red eyes and a rumpled shirt.

A few days after that, Izumo didn't see him at his station and he didn't come home that night.

And after patiently waiting for him to tide out his feelings, Izumo found him curled on the couch with an opened, untouched bag of chips in his lap and the TV turned on to a channel he knew Kotetsu couldn't care less about.

_"She was just a kid," Kotetsu murmured when the couch dipped and his partner took a seat to his right. "A pretty weird one. Too damn tall. She was somethin' else, did you know that? Worked hard, was damn smart—something wasn't right. I knew something wasn't right. But I went along with it, didn't I?"_

_Izumo couldn't say what that meant, but he ran a hand through spiked black hair anyways. Something wasn't right? Did he know something like this was going to happen? "Her mission went wrong. That's not your fault."_

_"... Yeah. I guess," Kotetsu murmured. He turned his face into a couch pillow and sighed. "Pro'lly gonna sleep on the couch tonight. S'comfy."_

_"Alright."_

_"... Stay with me?"_

_"I always do."_

Izumo sighed quietly, but quickly plastered on an easy-going smile when Kotetsu turned back to him, grinning as he brandishes the now-signed files like a trophy. His grin wasn't big or as bright as it could be, but it was something.

These days, Izumo knew his partner would be a little more scatter-brained. A little bit not okay, but just for a little while longer. Maybe it'll be a couple of weeks, a couple of months, but he'd get better with time.

He'd mourn, he'd remember, he'd live.

And Izumo silently promised he'd be there every step of the way.

"You want me to take it up to the Tower?"

"Nah, I got it." Kotetsu stretched as he stood, and heaved a relieved sigh when his back cracked. "I'll be back in a sec. Don't miss me too much."

"Won't miss you at all."

"We'll see 'bout that, asshole."

He slipped out the check-in station and headed down the path towards the Hokage Tower.

About halfway there, he passed a uniformed shinobi with green-rimmed glasses.

:: ::

Aoba took a seat on a bench that overlooked the village as he set a store-bought bento lunch on his lap. It was that time of day when it was clear out and silent; the sun high in the sky and resting birds cooing up in their high branches.

It was calm.

But he wasn't hungry.

He stared down at the bento for what must have been minutes until he closed the top and stuffed it back into its plastic bag. He was alone for his break today, which really wasn't new, but the longer he looked at the empty spot to his left the more he could feel the dull ache in his chest creep to the pit of his stomach.

He remembered when the information on Team Eight had been released in the public record.

The news didn't come as a front page cover story or a scream from the Hokage Monument, no, it came as silent as a knife that slipped up to his throat.

(Just the same way every other shinobi's story ended, one way or another.)

It came like finding a broken lock on your front door, threading a chill up your spine and forcing a tremble in your chest, not knowing what was on the other side and not wanting to find out.

_It came when he left work one day when he stepped out the intelligence building as the sun set low, red and orange and pink and purple bleeding out on the horizon. He saw Hagane Kotetsu slouched by the exit, arms crossed tight over his chest and head ducked._

_Aoba blinked. "Hagane-san?"_

_"You're... Aburame's Shino's sensei, right?"_

_"Oh! Yes, how did you know?" Aoba slowed to a stop in front of his comrade, but even then he couldn't see the entirety of his face. "Ah, well, I guess Sakura must have mentioned it at one point or another."_

_"Uh, yeah. Sa-Sakura—" Kotetsu flinched, and Aoba's brows furrowed— "said something before, and, uh... It's just..." He sighed. "I've never been good at this kinda thing. I'm sorry."_

_"Sorry? Hagane-san, what—"_

_"Something went wrong on their mission." The words burst past his lips like a dam breaking in a flood. "There's not a lot of details or anything and the mission got moved from the Archives like a few days ago and I looked and couldn't find anything and I know it said they were supposed to be gone some indeterminate amount of time, but..." Aoba's palms started to sweat and his mouth dried. "But..." Kotetsu's voice cracked. "Team Eight's mission officially ended in February."_

_Six months._

_February was six months ago._

_Team Eight had been... for_ six months _..._

_"What's their official status?" Aoba asked, glasses fogging as his eyes misted. Kotetsu couldn't look at him._

_"MIA." The chuunin's voice was no higher than a whisper, and if he spoke any louder it would break._ He  _would break. "But they were given the Presumed Dead designation."_

Aoba sighed.

This was a constant of shinobi life; dying on missions, dying brutal deaths, dying young.

(But it never crossed his mind that it was something that could happen to them.)

He stood and walked to lean on the railing, a sudden tiredness hugging him close like an old friend. A small sliver of darkness curled into him as he watched both shinobi and civilian mingling on the streets and enjoying another day in the bright Konoha summer.

But no matter how much the sun shone, he felt cold.

Lunch forgotten at the bench, he turned away and started a path back to the intelligence building just as an Academy teacher stepped into the library.

:: ::

Iruka's here again.

The librarian wasn't surprised to see the kind-faced teacher slip through the doors with the same stack of books under his arms, all six in the same order just like the last time he left. He'd been in at the same time after Academy hours every third Friday and walked up to the check-out desk with the same apologetic smile, a tilt to the right side of his lips as he bowed shortly as he set his books on the wood.

"Renewing again?" the librarian asked. She was already scanning the barcodes on the inner covers without waiting for a response, and Iruka rubbed the back of his head as his smile turned sheepish.

She noticed the bags under his eyes. She pretended she didn't.

"If it isn't too much trouble. Um, I'm not hoarding all these books to myself, am I?"

The librarian glanced at the titles she'd already scanned:  _The Block Theory, Intermediates of Multi-layer Seals, Fundamentals of Stacked Linkages_.

"No, not really," she said, because all the books in front of her had been collecting dust until one day a young teacher had come around in a hurry to snatch all the advanced sealing books they arranged on the designated shelf. He'd been harried, then, with half his hair out of his ponytail, his flak vest missing, and his hitai-ate half-hanging out the pouch on his leg. The librarian was no shinobi, but she was pretty sure they weren't supposed to look like that.

She scanned  _The Evens Algorithm_  next, then  _Through Another Ink Medium_ , and  _Applications of the Curved and Pointed End._

"Have you finished reading these?" she asked. It was the same question as all the times before, and she only lifted her gaze when she stacked the last book on top of the pile and slid it across the counter.

"Not quite," Iruka replied. Then came that small, sad smile that complimented his dark circles and made him age almost ten years—weary, beaten, old. "I need to take a lot of notes. They're important."

He lifted the stack and bid a polite goodbye, but something compelled the librarian to break their conversational routine. She didn't watch him leave with her usual contemplative stare and opened her mouth to call out to him instead, her chin propped in her palm and her half-lidded eyes only mildly curious. "You should ask someone to help you get through those, sensei. Maybe a student?"

Iruka's back was to her when he answered. (She can't see the way he held the books closer to himself like a lifeline—an anchor.) "When my student gets back," he said. "I'll ask him."

He slipped out the front door.

It was strange, the librarian thought.  _He sounded so sad just then._

She spun around in her chair, missing the woman with spiky brown hair and red triangles on her cheeks pacing briskly past the window.

:: ::

Kuromaru was worried. Of course he was, the way his partner had been the last few months.

'Inuzuka Tsume' and 'busy body' never fit into the same sentence unless the word 'wasn't' was sandwiched between them, but they'd just come back from a two-week mission along the rocky mountain line near Earth Country's border with dirt still stuck in her sandals and dust coloring the fur on his underbelly brown and another mission had been slated for them to take up the next afternoon..

They couldn't continue on like this.

"Tsume—"

"I can already hear it comin' outta ya," she interrupted. They passed the busier streets in Konoha's midtown as they headed towards the clan district, and Kuromaru noted how anyone in their way would scoot to let them pass. A glance up showed the downward slant to Tsume's eyes and the thin line of her lips. Nothing like her sharp grins or the bright gaze that always invited mischief.

"Then maybe you should listen to me."

"It's fine."

"Obviously it's  _not_."

"Kuro, I swear—"

"Swear that you'll what?" Kuromaru bit. "Ignore me so that you can sign yourself up for another mission to beat yourself into the ground because focusing on blood and broken bones is better than thinking about the one thing that hurts more than all of that?" Tsume stopped just in the threshold of the Inuzuka House, stiff-shouldered and frozen. "News flash, but after the fifth time it gets old and after the tenth time you'll be dead and what can I say?" He pushed—he had to. "Kiba wouldn't want to see you this way."

And Tsume  _snapped_.

" _Kiba_ wouldn't want to see me this way?  _Kiba_?" She whipped around and flashed her fangs, a little wild around her eyes and her nails digging holes into her palms. "Don't act like you don't remember all those days you'd peek into his room and see a bed that hasn't been slept in for weeks! Don't act like you didn't notice the empty spots at breakfast, lunch, dinner, day after day after day! Because they were there! You saw it didn't you? Hour after hour, every week, maybe I'd see his face, maybe I'd catch him by chance, maybe I'd get to pet Akamaru a split second before he's out of my hands and my sight and down the street with my son who never even looked back when he  _left_..."

A wordless shout ripped from her throat as her hands dug into her hair. " _I know he's not coming back!_ " she roared. "I'll never see him grow up! I'll never see him get his tattoos! I'll never see him and Akamaru master the  _Garoga_ like everyone else in our clan!"

Tsume fell forward to brace herself on the stair railing, turning her back towards Kuromaru and shielding her face from the rest of the world.

"I hope it didn't hurt when it happened," she whispered. Her soul bled out by the last word and suddenly, she was tired. Drained. And a headache was slowly starting to tap away at her skull. "And... if it did, I hope it was quick."

She tread up the stairs, and Kuromaru didn't follow.

Instead, he stood unmoved on the worn wood floors of the house with his head held high and his good eye unblinking and unfocused.

"Sometimes," he murmured to the empty space before him, "I wonder if you've forgotten how much they meant to me, too."

Outside, Hana stood on the porch and stared through the open door.

The Haimaru didn’t make a sound as she spun on her heel and walked right back down the path she came from. One of the ninken brothers made a motion to follow, but another moved in front of him and shook his head.

Hana's fists clenched at her sides as she tried to draw in deep breaths to calm the erratic beating in her chest. She avoided the main streets and took the narrow, beaten routes to the east training grounds and heaved herself onto the wooden fence that held itself a little lopsided along the way.

She pressed her fists against her forehead.

Stupid obligations, stupid missions, stupid feelings, stupid situation, stupid little brother she'll never see again—

A tear escaped the corner of one eye.

When Kiba was still around, it was already hard to live in that house. They never outright mentioned that once he became a genin he was just never home, and from there on, it just got worse and worse and worse until it was just... It scared her how  _normal_ it became. To not see him. To not include him in anything because there was no one to include.

Then Team Eight's report was released.

And for the last six months, the house had only ever been used as a place to sleep or a quick spot to eat.

She was exhausted. The Haimaru were exhausted. Kuromaru was exhausted. Her mother was exhausted.

Because at least back then, they knew Kiba was okay.

Hana sniffed and dropped her hands.

_Stupid little brother she'd never get the chance to bury._

:: ::

The Aburame Main House was always quiet.

The Aburame, by definition, were never a loud sort of people. Recluses they were called and recluses they stayed with their kikai that never ceased to buzz and their expressions that rarely changed for anyone. Perhaps they were off-putting as well, but that wasn't news to anyone who'd lent half a mind to any of the rumors that flitted about the village day to day.

And words like that couldn't have described Aburame Shibi any better. He was everything a clan head should be: calm, collected.

_Clink._

And it wasn't that he had to be, it's just who he was. A noble clan member, a figure to look up to—

_Clink._

—a father.

_Cli. nk._

So as Shibi sat all on his own at the dining table with a cup of tea no longer steaming to his left, a bowl of cold rice to his right, and a dish with oil clouding white right in front of him, he tapped his chopsticks against the edge of a plate.

It made a low, ringing noise resonate in the room; a ringing noise that barely broke through the thickening silence that ever so slowly started to suffocate.

It only broke when Shibi grabbed the edge of the table and flung it as he stood, not looking up as it crashed against the wall opposite him. Rice bits and tea stain the walls and pool around shattered ceramic that crumbled into smaller pieces as one of the chairs smashes into the pile.

Another chair follows. Then another. When there weren't anymore chairs, Shibi's hands bled on the vases he crushed into a fist and soaked the sleeve of his shirt as his arm swiped a glass pitcher off the table into another jagged mess on the floor.

The kikaichu in his skin don't buzz. They can't. They won't.

And when his gaze finally trailed up, it was to the ceiling, to one of the beams that colonies had taken to crawling around and were now all deathly quiet and still.

His eyes landed on the cluster of butterflies with clear wings lined with burnt orange.

The  _Greta Oto_.

Shino's butterflies.

He dropped to his knees and fell back to sit on his heels, back slumped as tears finally push past his glasses to drip down his face and mingle in the rivulets of red in his hands, silent sobs wracking every inch of his body.

The Aburame, by definition, were never a loud sort of people.

And through all the cries his heart would scream, not a murmur snuck past his lips.

:: ::

Tenzo opened his eyes.

He didn't need to look at his clock to know it was nowhere near close to six in the morning, the usual time he'd wake if he was in the village and there was no assignment for him to attend to. His body ran like clockwork and, for as long as he could remember, nothing could have changed that.

Letting his eyes fall closed for a split second, he drew in a deep breath, then exhaled.

There used to be nothing that could have changed that.

He rolled out of bed as a dimly lit  _3:34 AM_  stared up at him from his bedside table. Three? He'd woken up around four the last few weeks. He felt the fatigue in the sinews of his muscles and his eyes held the begging burn of a full night's rest, but four hours was his new max. Five, if he was lucky.

But there was no use in worrying about it now. He wouldn't be able to go back to sleep even if he tried, unfortunately, so he pried himself off the bed and headed straight for the coffee machine in the kitchen. He took a seat on a stool once it started to sputter and brew dark drops from coffee beans imported from Grass Country and thought how the beans were made a little stronger there. It might have been because of the higher humidity and milder climate, but either way that coffee was what he needed every morning and it was probably his new favorite brand to pick up from the specialty store by the Jounin Center.

He also thought about a team of dead children and how Danzo was no doubt content about his blood soaked hands.

Tenzo rubbed his face and leaned against the counter. He'd known the trouble they were in with the glaring targets painted on their backs by the Third Hokage and Danzo themselves, and paired with the latter's almost obsessive intent on offing them as quickly as possible, it was more impressive that it took this long to get rid of them. When the cursed seals weren't enough when they proved themselves to be greater than their circumstances and their consequences—

They'd been cut down at the root. Set aflame. Murdered by their own village, he was so painfully sure.

_And he should've seen this coming._

Team Eight had been a contradiction full of anger and pain, of hatred and determination, of a chilling like-mindedness simmering with the resilience of a thousand suns. It... hurt to look at them for too long knowing as much as he did, knowing that he'd been to blame for the ink on their tongues that started them down the path that could've only had one bloody end.

The leader they'd been assigned must have been a ROOT member. And if he had to guess, the 'indeterminate time period' to complete the mission had been used to throw off any suspicion so the ROOT could take as long as they needed to slit Eight's throats and reduce each and every one of their bodies to ashes that were collected and buried to never be found again.

Mission ended in February, the public record said. MIA, the public record said.

"They could have been dead longer," Tenzo muttered to himself, an empty echo in his cold apartment. And KIA. KIA was a much better descriptor for their status; scorned for what they believed in, burned by the Will of Fire.

The coffee machine clicked, and he brought the steaming mug into his calloused hands before walking back to his room to sit at the edge of the bed.

He glanced at the clock.  _3:41 AM_.

And beside the clock were two thin, flat planks of wood tied together in the shape of an 'x' that was about the size of his palm. At the center was a glued tea light candle run out of wax and a used wick crumbled to chunks in the tin holder. The notches on each end of the planks held four wooden bars where lantern paper wrapped around into a prism, water-stained and wrinkled.

He set down his mug of coffee, and cried.

He cried because a team of genin fought to free him from the dark.

He cried because they let him remember his own name.

_And he cried because it was his turn to never forget theirs._

:: ::

Kurenai woke in the morning with a smile on her face. She took a shower, made herself a quick breakfast of toast and eggs, and went down to the market to start her weekly grocery trip.

One of the vendors greeted her as she ambled down the street—she was a young owner, definitely late teens or early twenties and must have recently taken over the business from family or a friend—and recognized her as one of the many customers that graced the district this quiet Monday.

"Good morning, Yuuhi-san!" she chirped. "Would you like to buy some salmon today? It's delivered fresh from Port City and I'm sure I can cut a deal just for you!"

Kurenai smiled at the young woman's enthusiasm, so full of wonder and hope and—

"I'll take two fillets, please," she said. When the vendor turned to the cutting board and lifted a firm gray salmon out the nearest ice bucket, Kurenai took a short step back. "Ah, excuse me, is it alright if I use the restroom real quick? I know there's one in the bakery next door."

"Of course, Yuuhi-san! I'll have your salmon sliced and wrapped when you get back!"

"Thank you, I'll only be a moment."

And it really was only a moment. Not two minutes later, she was back with a warm loaf of bread in one arm and happily accepted the small plastic bag of wrapped salmon she was sure to tip the vendor for. She was young, after all, with such a bright future ahead of her.

A bright...

Kurenai thanked the bubbly woman and continued her way down the line of shops and vendors and stalls. One of the many sellers had jerky drying on hooks and filled the immediate area with the promising smell of tough turkey, beef, deer, and to many passersby it pulled them in if not to buy, then to peer at the process.

Kurenai didn't even glimpse in their direction.

Her pace quickened.

By the end of her grocery run she had a few more bags of foodstuff before she immersed herself in the materials part of the market. As a shinobi she didn't splurge on much that wasn't fight wear or weapons or first aid kits, but every once in a while it didn't hurt to indulge.

She leaned over thin chain necklaces and studded bracelets until she spied a pair of cute earrings, these ones dark blue, and held them up to an ear as she glanced at her reflection in a small, smudgy mirror propped up behind the baskets of jewelry.

The vendor grinned at her interest, this one an older man with white hair speckled gray. "That suits you very well, miss! Would you like to purchase them?"

"Yes, please." The earrings were small but had gems as blue as the ocean, shined and cut in a way she hadn't quite seen before. "Are these sapphire?"

"Spinel, actually," he smiled as he tucked the earrings in a small box before sliding it into a paper bag. "Mined up on the great Lightning Country mountains, they were, and if I didn't enjoy the gem business so much I wouldn't have bothered climbing around everywhere, you know!"

He handed over the bag, and she handed over her payment.

“We also have a selection of sunglasses, if you're interested," he offered. "Can't be too careful about protecting your eyes from the sun, you see."

"Oh, the earrings are just fine, but thank you," she replied. Her eyes don't flicker over to the dark lenses no matter how much she wants to look at the shades, how they hid so much, how even then, they could only hope to shield the world from an eye that— "Have a good rest of your day."

"You as well, miss!"

Kurenai headed back home after that instead of perusing the rest of the district. A soft hum tickled her throat and drowned out the whispers in her head and she made it back in record time to drop off her new earrings in her room and to stock all the groceries in the kitchen. Her nimble hands, cut and calloused from years of work in the field, opened every cabinet save for the one beside the oven where all her baking trays and mixing bowls had sat collecting dust for months.

She didn't bake. Not anymore.

Red eyes roved over the clock above the oven, and she blinked. Had time always passed so quickly?

Putting away the last bunch of vegetables in the bottom drawer of her fridge, she tapped the door shut with her hip and rushed back out the door again.

The sun hit her face once she was back on the street and she took the time to pause and breathe in. The sounds of the village washed over her as she allowed her thoughts to pool to a still for the first time that day. She listened to murmurs up and down the street, she heard children laugh and it nearly made her smile—

—then a dog barked, and she was back to numbing awareness. Her mind ran rampant. Her hair stood on end.

She started her walk down the road, and she hummed all the way to the apartment on the other side of the village.

When Tenzo opened the door, he greeted her the same way he always did; a gaze that always brightened when she met it and a smile that lit up her day.

She sighed in relief and followed him into his kitchen.

"Sorry I'm late," she apologized. "I was in the market district earlier and wasn't paying attention to the time."

"Don't worry about it." He handed her a mug of her favorite tea while he had a cup of coffee for himself. It was all he could drink nowadays, it seemed. "How have you been?"

They hadn't seen each other in a couple of weeks because of schedules and responsibilities, especially since Kurenai had relegated herself back to an active duty jounin and Tenzo still worked in ANBU under the iron-fisted Senju Tsunade.

It was nice to catch up with old friends. Old memories.

"I've been doing well," she says, peering into her mug.

"Are you?" Her eyes snapped up and Tenzo's smile had wilted a little. "I don't want to be too forward, but I'm still worried."

"It's been better than before," she argued, but even that sounded weak to her ears. "I've been getting out of bed in the mornings, I've been going out, I-I've been buying groceries—"

"You had a pink shirt you used to wear," he said. Not accusingly, never accusingly from him. Kurenai shut her eyes and breathed in. "When was the last time you wore it?"

"... Not since then," she admitted quietly. The shirt he spoke of she knew all too well, and the memory of her shoving it to the very back of her closet so she could only begin to forget about it was clear in her mind. "Pink... still makes me nauseous. But it's been better. Really. I..." The scent of tea filled her nose, but it was growing stale. "I only had one breakdown today. In the bathroom. At the bakery."

A breakdown and the fact that the mere sight of jerky reminded her of the snack Kiba would sneak when his friends weren't looking to distract him from his anger, to distract him from his pain—behind every pair of sunglasses was Shino and the eye he lost and the bags he couldn't scrub away that made his father sick with worry—whisks and bowls and batter used to make treats for a team that used to fill her apartment with banter and laughter and secrets never meant to be shared—every bark was Akamaru's when he lolled his tongue out and drooled when he slept through nightmares of blood and scars and screams—pink, the color of a girl that was too cold too smart too sharp too brave—

"Have you been to your old training grounds?"

She shook her head, and Tenzo set his mug aside to hold one of her hands, his own still warm from his drink.

"Kurenai, you're getting better. Like you said, you're getting out of bed in the mornings—"

Only to stand in her shower for an hour until the water ran cold.

"—you've been going out—"

So the neighbors don't get suspicious. So the neighbors don't find out she's been dying from the inside out.

"—you've been buying groceries—"

For them to rot until the stench was unbearable and she would throw them all away, untouched.

She placed her tea on the nearest countertop, dizzy.

"Kurenai," he said again. He was quieter, he was softer, and she takes solace in his voice even when she heard the barest break in his tone. "It's going to take a long time and it might not ever be the same but... you'll get through, okay? We'll get through. We'll be okay."

" _But you weren't there_ ," she whispered. She pressed her other hand to her face, black hair falling past her fingers as her shoulders began to shake. "I yelled at them the last I saw them. I yelled, I fought, I... I was so  _scared_. They were going to die, Tenzo, they were going to die if they kept going. If they kept fighting. And I..." She sniffed. "I thought that if they stopped then, it would be okay. They could rest."

Tears sprung past the gaps between her fingers.

"They left."

Her vision blurred and her throat clogged up.

"They're not coming back."

There was a warmth at her side and Tenzo was right beside her, one arm around her shoulders and the other cradling her head to his chest. Kurenai let go of her face and wrapped her hands around his forearms as she held him close, because he was the only one she could hold onto now as she felt the top of her head grow damp with the weight of his own fearless tears.

He was the only other one that knew. That understood.

"I abandoned them. I was the first one to leave, and I did it when they needed me most," she cried. Her forehead fell against his shoulder and the sobs come stronger, fiercer, fast enough to strangle her lungs and the only thing she could think of was how much it was well deserved.

Stars shadowed the curtain covered windows, and silencing seals glowed faintly around the room.

Anguish bound her heart as Kurenai spoke the only thing she could say with absolute certainty, that she didn't have to lie about, that she didn't have to pretend for.

" _I let Konoha kill my kids_."

:: ::

(Konohagakure was a village that learned to overcome. They were strong, dependent, tight-knit, and ready for whatever the world could ever throw at them.

Then, there was March.)

:: ::

**_Choking on Shallow August Air_ **

:: ::

The scars on his neck were straight, pale, healed. But they were still there.

As were the ones on his torso and his arms and his legs and the one he managed to carve into his back—every single one was straight, pale, healed no matter how deep they'd been when he cut through skin, vein, muscle, bone.

Sakura wondered what it was like for him in his cell all those months. All of them must have been bored, and while she drowned herself in physical training he looked to have done the same with healing.

She was glad he'd gotten work in, but she still wished it hadn't gone so far.

Shino leaned against one of her legs as he sat on the floor with his eyes closed and his hair tangled in her fingers from her spot on the couch. An open binder of medical publications laid on his lap right next to Akamaru's head as the rumbling of a running shower filled the otherwise quiet room. For the past half hour she'd been trying to figure out how to tie up his hair one-handed and hasn't had much luck, but she was nothing if not persistent and Shino hadn't minded the soothing motions since she started.

(Sakura remembered how fast it used to take her to twirl her hair into an immaculate bun atop her head. Every morning she would try to tie it faster than the last until it became a motion done in a blink.

Now she could feel those same strands above her neck. At least it would be easier, now.)

She let the tresses fall against his shoulders and rested her forearm atop his head to pillow her own as she stared at one of the walls.

"What's wrong?" Shino asked. He turned a page of his text, and Sakura tapped her fingers against his scalp a few times before she reclined against the couch. He half turned towards her and spied the stormy seas of her eyes, not quite as cold as they normally ran but calculating all the same.

"Are we doing the right thing for the right reasons?"

He blinked. “What do you mean?”

"The weak are meat, the strong eat." The phrase rolled off Sakura's tongue like liquid metal. This was their mantra, their lifeline, their scream at all who tried to end them. "Or alternatively, might is right; the strong get to do whatever they want because they're the strong ones, whether or not it's right or wrong." She glanced down at where the rest of her arm would've been. "Did I bring it up because I believed in it, that we should be strong so we could be right?" She smiled a little, self deprecating smile. "Or did I bring it up because it was my father's favorite saying?"

(She never could be her own person apart from him, could she?)

Shino looked back at his papers, then up to the pair of dark glasses surrounded by scrolls and books and brushes cluttered on the low table.

Being strong so they could be right. He'd never thought about it like that, and he didn't think he'd ever fall into that category.

Because weren't Danzo and Orochimaru and Hiruzen the same way?

He sighed and rubbed his face as Akamaru lifted his head and whined softly.

"This was not a conversation I believed we would have today. Why? It was not something I thought to consider," said Shino. He sagged against Sakura's legs, hands still pressed against his face. "Why bring it up now?"

"I've had eleven months to think about it," she replied. Her words were a stark reminder that they were currently in a cell in the middle of what they behold as enemy territory. "Better to bring it up now before we never get the chance again, right?"

"Might as well call ourselves out for bein' self-righteous hypocrites 'fore we're dead." The bathroom door swung open and Kiba stepped out in a pair of black pants and a gray towel he was using to dry his hair. He threw the towel over the metal from on one of the beds and plopped onto the couch as he kicked his legs up over Sakura's thighs. "So what were you sayin'? That we're wrong 'bout what happened?"

"Not that we're wrong, but that we're going about it the wrong way," she clarified.

One way to describe Killer Bee was kind. A lot of people didn't appreciate that from what she'd seen when they walked the streets, but the animals on Genbu never shied away from him. Once when waiting for Motoi to finish his duties before they started their genjutsu training, she'd sat in the shade of a tree as Bee fed a moose with six antlers sprouting from its head.

_"You know when you fight, you got a fire in your eyes and a blaze in your style," Bee said as the moose took another bite of the carrot offered up. Sakura tilted her head fractionally. "Not an ordinary one, not really, but there's that kick that ain't juvenile. Got a goal in mind, somethin' that makes your gaze red and blind?"_

_She thought about the Third and Danzo, of kidnapped children and small dead bodies and families who never learned what happened to their babies, of their own burned tongues and brands and the only arm she had left tattooed with the mark of a prisoner. "Maybe."_

_He hummed and patted the moose's head with one hand, motioning her over with the other. When she reached the great brown beast with its moss covered antlers and bright orange eyes, she only hesitated a second before bringing up her own hand to pat its snout._

_It exhaled a warm huff._

_"It's good to pick your battles," Bee murmured. In the vast quiet of Genbu, it would've been hard to miss his words. "Revenge is sweet, but it's poison. Careful which ones you pick to drink 'cause you'll never know which one will kill you."_

"I'm not saying  _he_ doesn't deserve it," she said just as Kiba opened his mouth. "We just need to think about our decisions. What we choose, what we do." Sakura ran her tongue over her teeth. "Who we'll kill."

"... I guess I've thought 'bout it. Had eleven months ta' think 'bout it too." Kiba yawned, stretching his arms out and sagging even more into the couch. But as his eyes opened, they held no warmth, but a frigid passion. "Honestly? Maybe we did go too far. Maybe we shouldn't have done some of the things we did, like using the Konoha Crush to our advantage and not feelin' guilty."

Silence pulsed around the room.

(What did it say about them that they couldn't refute that statement?)

"I still want  _him_ dead," Shino said after a moment. "No matter the level of morality to examine and regardless of a title, of 'good' or 'bad, his decades of terror to them, to the village, to us is something I will not stand for. Why? Because this is not due to a choice of rightness or deserving, it's due to our circumstance of becoming victims of his power and him using that to rot the village from the inside out." His lips curl into an ugly sneer and the kikaichu beneath his skin trembled in a deep-seated fury that embedded itself into every cell of his being, fostered by time and hatred. "All because we found out a truth."

"A lot of truths," Sakura agreed. "But making a list and crossing out every name on it will do nothing. We kill him before he does any more damage, and we'll decide after that if all of this was worth it."

Because they had no right to be the judge, the jury, and the executioner. They had no right to decide who got to live and who got to die. they had no right to play God in this world.

But the world of shinobi was never fair.

It was unfortunate they had to learn that the hard way.

Akamaru nestled his head back into Shino's lap, a tired wave brushing through his fur.

"I really hope it was," Kiba sighed. "You know, all this trouble." He crossed his arms over his chest and dug his head into the couch cushions. "Or we really drove sensei away for nothin'."

The silence hit again, this time harsher and colder than the last, and it took a few minutes before Shino went back to reading his texts, before Sakura's hand was back in the thick of his hair, before Kiba drifted off.

No one spoke for a long time but one thing was made startlingly clear.

From now on, they would never throw down the gauntlet. They would never start a fight. They would never act on whatever wasn't their business.

(They'd learned of the Kyuubi, of Uchiha Itachi. The world won't learn about either from them.)

Danzo threw the first punch when he burned their tongues.

So one day, the world would learn of Danzo and Orochimaru and Hiruzen and the children who died by their hands.

((And that was the poison they chose to drink.))

:: ::

Outside the cell door, Bee and Yugito exchanged glances.

:: ::

**_September Leaves Burnt Our Tongues_ **

:: ::

"This is the  _worst_ idea."

"Aw, what, you backin' out? Always knew you were a drought."

"I'm not backing out, but you know Raikage-sama will be upset when he finds out that you—"

"Eh, what's new, I'm always making my bro pull out his hair, And what's with that  _'you'_  swear, 'cause last time I checked this was one of those  _'we'_  affairs."

Sakura, Kiba, Shino, and Akamaru watched the banter between Killer Bee and Nii Yugito like a ping-pong match from their places sandwiched between them. It was almost midnight when the two jinchuuriki appeared and snuck the team out of Catatumbo. They never said what it was for or what they were going to do, but Yugito had looked mildly exasperated yet enthused and Bee was practically vibrating with excitement.

Kiba jabbed a finger at the eldest shinobi. "So, like, he talks like that all the time?"

Sakura shrugged. "He wants to be a world-famous rapper, so he practices as much as he can."

"Huh. Wildin'."

"I don't think I've been in this part of Kumo before," Shino noted as he peered down from the roof they were all crouched on, Bee and Yugito's back and forth a constant noise over their heads. Soft yellow lights brightened the streets and tens of stalls still steamed with grilling foodstuffs. "Part of downtown, perhaps?"

"Got it right, kid, but we ain't gonna sit here like a volt of griffon vultures." Bee bent over them and pointed father down the street where it ended in a sort of huge cul-de-sac with maybe ten to fifteen buildings with signs of all kinds hung around each door. "We're headin' down to Parhelic Circle to experience some of that Kumor culture."

"Parhelic Circle?" Sakura repeated. As the six of them leapt down to the street, Kiba muttering about Kumo and its fake words, Bee threw an arm around her shoulders and grinned.

"Probably one of the most important places here," he said. "We've all been getting kinida ansty lately, so Yugi and I thought it was about time to bring y'all by." He lowered his voice a tad."And between you and me, Gyuu's been askin' about it too."

 ** _'Shut up,'_**  Gyuuki grumped.

"Okay, but what  _is_ it?" Kiba stressed. A quick assessment of the direction they walked towards filled with the scent of metal and a fair amount of blood coupled with an incessant humming noise. "Oh my god. You're actually gonna kill us this time. Guys, they're gonna cut off our heads in front of everyone and put them on spikes and—"

Bee burst out laughing as Shino leveled his friend with one of the blankest stares he could manage. " _Kiba_."

"Wait," Sakura interrupted. "Let him finish."

Yugito snorted and mussed Shino's hair over his disgruntled expression, Akamaru happily trotting alongside them.

Even at this late hour, groups of people were clumped around vendors or had their feet dangling from the overhangs or lazed about the suspended bridges overhead. Most looked like shinobi but some exuded that civilian charm, but talked and laughed like old friends and family though none of Team Eight could say any one person looked similar to the next.

They'd be lying if they said they weren't charmed. And they'd be lying if they said the sight wasn't a reminder of one of the holes in their hearts.

_They hadn't really made friends like those in Konoha, had they?_

Sakura was the first to tear her eyes away from the scene that had the others so enchanted and saw they'd entered Parhelic Circle. Even more people hung around the doorways and steps and used the scattered boulders in the center as perches and make-shift dining tables.

But the buildings, though, were what really caught her attention.

They were all tattoo parlors.

"I guess you could say Parhelic Circle is a right of passage." Yugito grinned at their confused faces. She pushed up her left sleeve to reveal the stunning black work of half a face of a regal, flaming cat with the word  **n i b i** inked down beside it. "Everyone in Kumo has at least one of their own to show off—new genin especially." She laughed. "You get a lot of shitty tattoo stories from those ones."

"We brought you by to meet ol' _Mdumo_ and _Siphepho_ ," Bee beamed as he pointed to the second floor on one of the middle brick and mortars. "Mdumo's done all my work—"

"—and Siphepho's done mine." Yugito's smile turned fond as she ushered the team up the wood steps, nodding at the greetings from some of the younger shinobi that dangled off the railings as the one that cluttered along the stairs shimmied to the side to give some walk space. "Craggly old ladies, the both of them. Been together for twenty years and been tattooing twice as long, and they get cranky if we don't pop by to say hello every now and again. You want good work done, you get it from them—but that's just my bias talking. You go to one artist in Parhelic, you don't go to another."

"Wait, wait, wait—hold on, just hold up a sec." Kiba spun around the two Kumo shinobi as they all stood in front of the door with a chipped  _Thunder and Storm_  painted in dark red onto the wood. He threw his hands up. "Lemme get this straight; it's like, one in the morning and you brought us out here ta'—ta' get tattoos?!" He sputters. "I'm kinda losing my mind here can you  _please tell me what's going on_."

Bee jerked his head at Yugito. "She's already said it's a right of passage, didn't ya here? All the Kumor get it, everyone far and near."

"We're not Kumor," Shino quietly reminded them. His hand swept up to a forearm and tugged the ends of the bandages that hid their status, their imposed shame. But before his breathing could quicken and his vision could start to blur, Sakura's arm slipped around his neck to tug him close, to tether him. To remind him that they were safe. He breathed in deep and exhaled, missing the brief glint that passed over Yugito's eyes. "There is no need to integrate us further into your community. Why? We're aware of who we are and where we stand, but we appreciate the experience."

Matatabi hummed as her tails swished.

Gyuuki maintained his contemplative silence.

Shino, Kiba, Sakura, and Akamaru looked up at Bee, the latter's face blank and his elbows propped on the railing behind him. Lantern lights bounced off the dark lenses of his glasses and the bare skin of his arms.

"You in Kumo?" he questioned, staring right at Shino. The boy narrowed his gaze.

"Yes...?"

"You've done work in Kumo?"

"Yes."

"You're friends with Kumor?"

"... Yes."

"Those same Kumor respect you?"

"I... would like to think so, yes."

"Then that's all there is to it," Bee shrugged. He clapped Shino on the back and nudged the bewildered team through the thin doorway and into the cramped parlor.

It was fashioned into two sections: a waiting area that was maybe four seats wide and three seats long, and a tattooing area with two beaten leather chairs and a long metal table covered in half-done drawings, ink, and boxes of gloves. A pair of crimson batwing doors attached to a torso-high wall separated one side from the other as designs covered every available space the eye could land on.

Akamaru glanced up. And that included the ceilings and beams too, he guessed.

Two older women sat by the long table, one with blonde-white hair in a loose bun with wisps that fell out stark against her dark brown eyes and the tattoos that ran from her neck to her chest and all the way down to her wrists. The woman next to her appeared just as stern with her black-gray hair shaved and her scalp covered in red ink.

The blonde one huffed as she stood and strode towards them with a scowl almost fixed to her face. She stopped in front of Bee, the half wall separating them and her height only managing to reach just below his chest.

"Hmph," she sniffed. " _Six months_ , Bee?"

At least Bee had the decency to look sheepish as he rubbed the back of his head. "I meant to come by sooner, Mdumo, I've just been a little busy—"

"Busy, he says!" Mdumo harrumphed. "Hear that, Isi, Bee here's been so busy he couldn't stop by to say hello to the ol' grannies on this side of the mountain!"

"Heard 'im loud and clear!" the other called back. Yugito chuckled, but then the other woman appeared too with a disapproving frown on her face, a caricature of a snarling buffalo faded with age atop her head.

"Don't think you're off the hook!"

"S-Siphepho-san—"

"He might not have visited in six months, but you haven't in  _seven_!"

Shino could safely say that standing in the waiting area of a mahogany-bricked building that was as wide as the span of one finger tip to the other if he held his arms out on either side of him and watching two of the most powerful shinobi in the five nations get berated by a couple of old ladies wrapped head to toe in tattoos was one of the strangest instances he'd come to witness.

He exchanged a glance with Sakura, then with Kiba, and when his eye moved back forward the arguments had hushed and four pairs of eyes descended upon them.

"And what do we have here, hm?" Mdumo hummed. She propped her forearms on the low wall and leaned forward. "Genin?" She eyed Shino's bandaged arms, the slips of paper that swung from Kiba's ears, Sakura's missing arm, and how Akamaru sat wary and guarded. "No, not genin. Something else, I can tell just as much." She stood back straight with a slight roll of her shoulders. "They must be something special if you two are bringing them in for ink."

"Only if they want to," said Yugito. She looked to the silent, blank-faced children who were nothing but prisoners in the eyes of Kumogakure law, but who had become so much more in the twelve months they'd lived in a prison that was never made for kids like them.

They were lost, just like every other Kumor that climbed the steps from the shrine looking for a life better lived or another chance to try again. And maybe they didn't make that choice, and that they'd only come after getting picked up from bloody forest floors by a dying fire, but she liked to think things were different now—that if Shino could save her life when he could have let the parasites take her instead, then his teammates must be just as  _good_ as him if the way his voice melted to a particular fondness whenever he spoke of them had anything to say about it.

"So what do you say?" Yugito smiled. "Would you like to get inked, or do you want to head back out to try some of the food stalls we passed?"

(She wouldn't know that their decision had come collectively for them, not because of the beautiful art that wove around the shop, not because the old ladies pulled their lips up with their chiding, not because they felt an obligation to her and Bee who'd brought them here.

But because they were given a choice.

And only god knew how long it had been since they'd been allowed to make their own choice about what happened to them.)

Kiba perked up first, his lips split enough for his fangs to show. "I head seal tattoos aren't popular 'cause of how risky they can get, but like is that on the table for you guys?"

"Depends." Mdumo narrowed her eyes at the boy, short with pointed teeth and hair wilder than the bison that roamed this side of the country. "You got a design in mind?"

"I could prob'ly make somethin' up in a few minutes." He pointed to his ears. "Uh, I made these, if that helps."

The woman scrutinized him for some moments longer, the crow's feet pulling at the corners of her eyes, before she jabbed a finger towards the back where her and Siphepho had been sitting when the group first came in. "Pop on back here, kid. I think we can churn out something worth our time."

Kiba flashed a quick, mischievous grin at his friends as he and Akamaru pushed through the batwing doors. Shino stared after him for a few moments before he slid his gaze over to the sheets on the half wall. His face never morphed expression as per usual, but Sakura spotted the microscopic change in his stance.

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "You should go with your idea."

"I might," he said. He tilted his head at her. "Will you get one as well?"

"I'll look around." She glanced at the few sheets closest to them. "I haven't thought about it before, but..." She smiled slightly and squeezed his shoulder. "Do what makes you happy. If I find anything, I'll let you know."

He grasped her hand for a beat before he approached Siphepho and her curious, glimmering eyes. "Do you happen to have any insect designs, Siphepho-san?"

"Got a whole binder for that back here if you want to shimmy on over."

And as he and Yugito pored over the old binders Siphepho dug up, Sakura's smile falls just as she turned to scan the walls behind her.

A tattoo, huh?

Some Amek had them, but definitely not at the capacity the Kumor had shown. Amegakure was industrial, dark, neon, and piercing had been more of the norm if anything. Metal in buildings, metal in bodies, metal in the syringes they used when they mixed chemicals in five-story labs to manipulate elements into the next biggest man-made poison.

And for native Kirians, like her father—

Sakura's brow scrunched. Her gaze landed on a great white shark on one of the sheets, blue with its body in the middle of thrashing and its teeth bared to the world, beady little eyes shining as red coated the corners of its mouth.

She didn't know a lot about Kirians. Or Kiri at all, for that matter.

_'Did I never ask?'_

But even if she didn't,

_'Why didn't he tell my anything?'_

She looked away, focusing on a stick and poke of rain drops instead of the burning in her chest.

"Anythin' catch your eye?"

Bee stepped up to her side—her right side, because she never trusted someone standing on her left—and peered at the designs with her. "A magpie? Maybe a firefly?"

Sakura snorted. "I don't think those are really my style." She glanced over her shoulder. Kiba gestured wildly to an amused yet intrigued Mdumo and Shino settled in one of the seats while Siphepho pressed an outline onto his sternum as Yugito chatted with them off to the side. Akamaru took his time bobbing from Kiba to Shino, tail wagging enthusiastically and his tongue lolled out his mouth. "But I don't know," she admitted, turning back around. She raised her eyes to his. "I don't know what to look for."

Those words struck a chord in Bee, and he didn't really know why.

"There's another part of our culture I don't think anyone's told you yet," he started. "About apprentices and mentors, about their bonds of blood, tears, sweat. Every time a hill gets crossed and a path gets through, they make a decision and they make somethin' new. They'll match tattoos 'cause it's what everyone'll do, and that sets the bond in stone just between you two."

Sakura spotted a cherry blossom tree far to her right. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Just lettin' you know that's one of your options," he said. He laid a hand on her pink strands of hair, and she blinked as her eyes darted back and forth between the pieces on the wall as she processed what she just heard. "What's with the look? I didn't teach you to wield a pair of wakizashi with one hand just for fun." Her head snapped up, eyes cold and shuttered. Bee's face eased up. "You're my student,  _Ibunzi_. Ever since we first fought in the rain."

Sakura pushed the bark of laughter that shot up to her throat at the nickname. He'd given it to her one day when she was so concentrated in molding her chakra into one-handed seals that he only managed to catch her attention by poking her forehead.

But the laughter left her as quick as it came, a tiredness settling within her in its stead.

"Bee-sama, I'm not—" She shut her mouth and drew in a deep breath through her nose. "Every morning, you bring me out from  _Catatumbo_ ," she whispered just loud enough for him to hear. "I'm not Kumor. I was never from Imvula. I'm from a village you hate, and if you know what I am, why do you try?"

The buzz of a tattoo needle hummed in the background and Kiba exclaimed something like the butt-end of a joke, Mdumo's cackles filling the air.

" ** _What you are?_** " Gyuuki repeated just as quietly. " ** _You're someone Motoi and my idiot host know is worth far more than you think you are._** " Bee's voice spilled back from his throat as the beast pulled back his control. "I don't know where you'll end up next week or next month, but I know that when someone asks about my students, I'll talk about a Sakura who's better than the village that left her to die." He tossled her hair for good measure. "You're an exemplary shinobi now, and you'll be better than that later. You know that, right?"

Sakura opened her mouth, but not a sound came out.

She thought about Konan's cool satisfaction whenever she landed a kunai in the middle of a target or Kakuzu's silent acceptance whenever she'd filled out an accounting page correctly or when she'd balanced all the checks set in front of her. She thought about how her father grinned when she perfected a kata before hoisting her high and gathering her up in a hug.

 _"Just like your papa!"_  he'd exclaimed.

But all those things were expected of her. If she didn't land the target, she would have to hear Konan's monotonous "again." If she didn't triple check her math, she would have to hear Kakuzu's scathing "again." If she didn't plant her foot right where it needed to be at the end of her kata, she'd have to hear her father's encouraging "again."

Again, again, again, again.

No one one had once asked her if she  _wanted_ to do any of that again.

Not until Kurenai. Kotetsu. Motoi.  _Bee_.

"Ibunzi?"

Sakura blinked, realizing she'd been staring straight at him the whole time and moved her head back towards the sheets as the whispers she could never forget raised their voices.

_"Remember what you witnessed here. This is what happens to fools who think they can change the world."_

_"Did you understand that, girl? You're Akatsuki's homegrown advantage. How does it feel to be used?"_

_"Because I'm not a good man."_

**_"You will be an exemplary shinobi or you will be nothing at all."_ **

"I... think I have an idea of what tattoo I want," she said. Bee leaned over in interest. "If you and Hachibi-san don't mind."

:: ::

"Situation's weird, huh?"

Darui, Mabui, and C sat atop the roof of  _Thunder and Storm_ , the air crisp and cool on their tongues and the sounds of faint chatter and needles filling their ears from beneath their feet.

Darui laid back against the tiling with one hand over his torso and the other pillowed behind his head as he closed his eyes. "We already agreed Bee-sama and Yugito-san would bring them to Parhelic, but we stopped by anyways."

"I'm curious about what they'll choose," Mabui spoke honestly. "It's an important moment in every Kumor's life, and I still want to be here for that."

C crossed his arms. "So they're Kumor now?"

"Do you think they're not?"

Blond hair brushed against his ears as he turned his head to look out over the circle. It still bustled far into the early, early morning, just like it always did every single night. Kumo never slept and neither did its people and here he was, batting away that same curiosity Mabui herself held.

He wondered—what image would Shino choose to bear?

Mabui shrugged off her companion's silence as the door below them opened and that muffled chatter turned clear and the occupants of the parlor poured out onto the walkway. She quickly moved to peer over the edge, C appearing on her right and Darui to her left.

Kiba slipped into their vision first, eyes bright and grin wide with his jacket thrown over a shoulder and his sleeveless fishnet allowing the kanji for  _eight_ be seen tattooed on his right shoulder. It was wrapped in plastic and dotted with blood, but they could clearly see the intricate lines and dots and swirls within the simple outline and both Mabui and Darui were met with the same realization.

The kanji was a seal, and the boy had fashioned even  _more_ seals into that kanji.

Darui shook his head, awe and disbelief in his voice as he muttered, "Ridiculous."

And Mabui let a small smile creep onto her face when it clicked that his tattoo was the color of pure Kumo red.

Shino walked out next, his shirt tucked under his bandaged arms. The criss-cross of his pale scars shone on the expanse of his skin, and they came numerous enough for C to hold back a wince. He'd seen his arms when he hid the bands that marked him a prisoner and his feet in the beginning when the boy walked around his cell barefoot, but he didn't think the scars were... everywhere.

When Shino turned to answer someone behind him, he held a glowing green hand just below his chest for a few moments before he pulled away to reveal the beautiful black work of a death's head hawk moth on his sternum that spread its wings just a bit farther than a hand's length long. The skull on it was most prominent, colored in a chilling bone white instead of being left to skin tone like any one else would have.

C huffed, but couldn't hide his amusement. What a design for a medic to have.

Yugito followed and Akamaru bounded out with her. They were surprised to see that there were bandages wrapped around the canine's floppy ears. None of the fur was sheared and no ink could be seen, so there must be a design or two marked on the inside of his ears. What it could be, they couldn't fathom.

And last, Sakura strode out alongside Killer Bee.

No arm tattoo, nor leg. Nothing on her torso either.

But then she paused, briefly, and lifted her eyes to their place on the roof.

Twin horns curled along her cheekbone just below her left eye, both a deep cerulean that contrasted against her green eyes and pink hair. But that was not the fact that caught them; what drew the three of them back so thoroughly was that is was the exact same shade and placement as the tattoo that marred Bee's face, and that only meant one thing.

Sakura nodded minutely in their direction before the group descended down the stairs.

Darui sat back first, his half-lidded eyes following them to one of the food stalls in Parhelic Circle. "Like I said—situation's weird, huh?"

"A little weird isn't so bad," Mabui smiled. She covered her mouth to smother a laugh when Kiba pointed at Sakura's face and shouted something that made her wind her arm around his neck and hold him down.

C watched Shino thread his fingers through Akamaru's fur as his mouth moved, sending the trapped Kiba into a frenzy and making Yugito and Bee throw their heads back in howling laughter. "No," he murmured. A few rays broke out on the horizon that shattered the sky into a haze of purple-pink hues and Parhelic positively lit up like a halo in the heavens. "It isn't too bad at all."

:: ::

**_But October Clouds Cried and Cared_ **

:: ::

"Shino-san the patients are in room thirty-four to forty-two—!"

"Checked them and noted any applicable symptoms or diagnosis in their files," Shino replied as he handed nine folders over to the harried nurse. "There was nothing of immediate danger, but the patients in rooms thirty-seven and thirty-nine should be attended to first."

"The patient in room three in the Recovery Ward—"

"Has been given their required medication dosage and had their IV drip changed five minutes ago."

"And the low stock of pain relievers on the fifth floor—"

"Have been restocked. I've just submitted the form to order more," he answered patiently, gesturing to the small stack of papers on one of the resource desks. The nurse sagged forward with a heavy groan, his braided brown hair frazzled over his rumpled scrubs.

"Shino-san, you're the best thing that's happened to this hospital in years," he sighed. He slowly straightened to crack his back as he watched the young medic fill out his time card. "Shift's over?"

"Yes. I'll be at the northern training grounds if you need me."

Northern training grounds? The ones Yugito-sama, Bee-sama, and Raikage-sama frequented? "For sparring?"

Shino set his pen down and tucked his time card back into its spot on the wall rack. "Maybe a few rounds, but I will keep myself available in case things go awry. Why? My friends will be sparring too and they tend to have little regard for their well being."

The nurse chuckled. "You never really clock out, do you?"

"It keeps me on my toes." He glanced out the window. "I'll be taking my leave. Will your shift end soon, R-san?"

R groaned again, and Shino's lips tugged up only slightly. "Just got here a couple hours ago, but I'll hold the fort down 'til you get back tomorrow, I swear."

"Ah, what a shame it would be to return to a hospital half burned down because you couldn't find a pen to fill out your paperwork."

"Please, I always keep at least  _three_ pens on me." R patted the breast pocket of his llama-print scrubs. Then his front pockets. Then his back pockets. "... most of the time."

Shino held in a snort and bid his coworker one last goodbye before he was down the stairs and out the building where C waited for him, hands in his pockets and his face angled high. A gray scarf wrapped loosely around his neck, and Shino adjusted his own jacket he'd swung on just as he stepped out into the light chill.

The green of this jacket was different than his old one. It was darker, earthier, with a hood bundled at the back of his neck. If he could still wear his old one the scars and brand would be much easier to see, and it dampened him a bit that this new one allowed him to hide a bit more.

C glanced his way, his blank face much kinder than it had been months and months ago. "Ready?"

Shino nodded. "We should hurry, though," he said. "Sakura learned a new technique and Kiba was too excited to test it out."

"Let's not keep everyone waiting, then."

The view in Kumo was just like any other, bright with long clouds that curled like a caress in the sky. It was nothing like Konoha or the Coliseum—there was no tang of barbecue from Yakiniku Q or the wafting scent of ramen from Ichiraku's, there was no dust in the air to choke on and no blood to taste like the aftermath of battle.

Kumo wasn't quite home.

But when Shino climbed up to the top of one of the plateaus to the sight of Killer Bee, Nii Yugito, Darui, and Mabui sat amidst a cluster of boulders, Sakura with a sword and Kiba with a handful of senbon and genuine grins on both their faces as they leapt and dodged each other's blows with no chains to shackle them down, he warmed and a smile pulled relentlessly at his mouth.

Kumo wasn't quite home.

But it would always be better than  _there_.


	5. Where Skies End

**_November Creeps Back and It's Been Over a Year_ **

:: ::

The tattoo surprised him the first time he saw it.

Her and Bee had come back to the island at the end of two weeks like they always did, only he didn't expect her to greet him with blue horns inked on her face as a clear mark for her guidance under Killer Bee. The first thing he thought was  _what a bold place for an apprentice tattoo_ , and the second had been  _oh, she's actually learning under Bee_.

Bee with a student wasn't an unusual sight in Kumo. Nii Yugito had been a student at one point or another and so had Darui, one for bijuu control and one for genjutsu, respectively. But Sakura was a little different than a student Bee would typically take on. True, she was a natural hand with swords and by some turn of talent she'd achieved the impossible and matched him for blow, for stamina, for perseverance.

But she was also a gift with genjutsu with the talent to spot and dispel them within a minute, and able to put one forth with the one-handed seals she'd gone through too many sleepless weeks to master. Bee didn't have an aptitude for things like that, which is why Motoi supposed he filled in that spot quite well, and they’d both taken on the cold girl with electric pink hair just a few inches shy of six feet tall because there was something in her that was so… curious.

Motoi glanced over at Sakura who took to completing a set of stretches nearby.

"Did you know," he started, and she stood from a side bend stretch to meet his gaze, "that you always look up at the trees when you're trapped in a genjutsu?"

She dipped into a side lunge stretch. He couldn't see her face from where he's standing, but he knew avoidance when he saw one. "Do I?"

"No matter if it's induced by eye contact or otherwise, you head always drifts up," he says. "It's odd, but as long as you can break out of whatever you're trapped in, it shouldn't affect anything." Motoi shook his head. "Anyway, today I'll be testing you with a high level genjutsu and we'll see how well you do with that."

Sakura nodded and moved directly across the field from him and leaves her thicker black jacket on the sidelines, revealing a black muscle shirt and her blue vambrace. It was brisk on the ocean today with the threat of snowfall on the horizon, Genbu swimming along much slower than her usual self.

He frowned. "You don't want to keep your jacket on?"

"It'll be easier like this."

"You might get a cold."

"Motoi-san."

"Ah, alright, alright," he acquiesced. He should know better than to try to pick that stubborn brain of hers. "Ready?"

She sunk into a defensive stance, her right arm held out and her left bicep pressed against her side. She nodded once, and so did he, and then his hands flew through four seals her eyes were quick to track. "Raiton: Raigen Raikochu!"

Blazing white light discharged throughout his body and into the entirety of the training grounds, and from his vantage he saw Sakura's body lock and her eyes go wide and there—her head tilted back ever so slightly and she stared into the treeline with pupils blown so wide there was no way she hadn't been caught.

He launched at her the same moment with a tanto poised to strike her left side. It was her weakest, her most unprotected, and it was the side he'd always go for to make sure she learned it was the place her enemies would tend to strike first.

But before it reached, before it made contact, he saw it.

Her fingers curled in like a dying spider's legs—half a snake seal—and just before metal connected with flesh, she whispered.

" _Doton: Domu._ "

Her skin distorted some sort of blue-gray and his tanto slammed with a  _clang_ that reverberated all the way up his arm.  _Her skin,_  Motoi startled in thought,  _it's like hitting a steel beam._

His eyes snapped up to her face and she was still half-caught in the genjutsu with a blank face and eyes that glowed against the dark earth of her skin and he dodged the punch slammed in his direction.

Its shock wave left a rift in the ground and he skidded back, readying himself for another attack.

But he stopped when he saw her staring down at her hand like she saw a ghost.

(Her skin isn't the jet gray Kakuzu shudders into with a wordless call, but it's the same technique she'd seen over and over and over as a child, the one he used to kill those Takigakure shinobi, the one he used to cleave trees, the one he used to hold blades without drawing a single drop of blood, she's done it, she should be happy, but the technique made her look like... look like...

 _"I'm not a good man."_ )

"Sakura."

Her world sucked back to the present and the color faded from her skin.

Motoi's brows creased with worry as the trembling breaths she took left quick white puffs in the air. Whatever had shaken her put fear in her eyes—after one blink it was still there, after two it was gone and she slowly, quietly, pulled herself back together until she looked just like she did when she strolled onto the island earlier that morning.

"It's the first time I've successfully completed that technique," she said like she wasn't just on the verge of a breakdown. "It's an effective defense, especially for close combat."

Too many questions ran through his head. He only asked one. "Where did you learn it?"

"Someone I knew used it often. It took me a while, but I was able to replicate it." Sakura lifted her arm to demonstrate what she'd done.

And it was almost instantaneously that both her and Motoi noticed her vambrace had somehow loosened when her skin turned to stone and was thrown somewhere she aimed her punch. The bandages beneath it had in turn loosened as well and started to unwind, revealing the three dark bands around her arm that could only mark her as one thing in Kumogakure.

Her eyes slid to his, carefully observing the contours of his face as he hand hovered over the hilt of her katana.

She tensed as Motoi walked forward, but he simply picked the vambrace off the ground and tucked it under his arm as he gently took her wrist to begin re-wrapping her bandages.

One, two, three times around, and he finally spoke. "You did good," he said. "Let's take a break. Have I ever taken you up to meet Genbu face to face? No? We should visit. It's only proper since she's allowing us to use her shell as a training ground."

He slipped on the vambrace and took care to fasten each strap into its buckle and even handed her back her jacket after that. She tugged it over her shoulders, a considering look in her eyes as she followed him eastward.

"You don't hate me?" she questioned as they passed thick trees and pine needles that stuck in the soles of their winter sandals. Motoi pulled his green scarf tighter around his lower face.

"Not at all."

"Why?"

The scarf covers half his face, but it doesn't hide his kind smile.

"Because I've met you," he answered. A breeze whipped around them and chills any exposed skin. Sakura blinked, and laughs as he patted her shoulder. "You aren't a criminal, Sakura, and if you were you never did anything I'd hate you for."

Hearing the echo of the words she always saved for Naruto pressed a pain in her chest she hadn't felt in a long time.

She took one last trembling breath and continued to walk.

:: ::

"I've been thinkin' that it's time you get yourself a summons, an otherworldly beast. It wouldn't hurt to sign one, at least, and sometimes your problems on the battlefield get ceased."

Bee and Sakura sat cross-legged along some of Kumo's taller peaks, the grounds painted in a thin layer of snow that crunched with each step they took on the hike up the mountains. The journey was quiet and comfortable, Bee humming a beat and Sakura marveling at the white crystals that thaw at the touch of her bare skin.

Once upon a time, her father had promised to take her to see the snow someday.

They trudged up as high as they could go to meditate and harness their chakra while understanding the ebb and flow of it, where they would eventually move on to her learning how to apply techniques efficiently and without suffering a needless drain on her reserves. She was no jinchuuriki nor had been blessed with a large chakra core, so the only way to keep up with powerhouses like that was to learn to ration accordingly.

And now, after sitting on flat-topped rocks for maybe three hours now, Sakura opened her eyes and glanced at her mentor as she brushed the snow that collected on her head and shoulders. "A summons doesn't sound too bad." She frowned. "I would be able to choose who I sign with, right?"

"Sure, but sometimes it doesn't work that way," he said. His blond-white hair was almost completely soaked through with melted snow. "You can take your pick but they've gotta pick you back too, and if they say no the one that's gotta move on is you." He grasped his chin. "Usually it doesn't take too long if you go about it that way since most students are like their mentors and more often than not share a contract, but I can't help you there since I've already got a special act."

Gyuuki huffed.  ** _'Idiot. What am I, a magic trick?'_**

Sakura leaned against her legs as she stared out at the skyline. She looked back at him after a few seconds. "What if I don't know what summons I want?"

"Is there one you  _don't_ want?"

"Sharks," she answered immediately. Bee watched as she pressed her lips together after she'd gone a shade paler and averted her gaze. "I don't want my summons to be sharks."

 ** _'Ah. So there's a story,'_** Gyuuki mused.  ** _'I wonder who spurned her far from sharks.'_**

_'Whatever it was isn't any of our business, Gyuu. Look at her—you ever seen her go that hue?'_

Gyuuki eyed the pallor in her face and resumed his silence.

"No sharks, then," Bee agreed easily. Struck with a sudden idea, he dug into the small pack he brought along with them and pulled out a sheet of seal paper, a brush, and a half-used bottle of ink. Carefully he drew out a configuration while he muttered to himself, probably conversing with the Hachibi, and Sakura noted he didn't write with the same quick speed and perfect angles like Kiba did, but he had a sheet full of drying black ink after a few minutes and held up the finished piece for her to see.

"Lucky for you, we know a little trick that can bring you to the summons that best stands by your side. Just draw some of your blood and place it right here, and you'll get transported to where your summons resides. So if you get something like a duck, sucks, but you'll pull through." He smiled at her softly, almost like a parent to their kid. "And if they're sharks," he said, "you'll have to face them too."

She grimaced. "... Alright."

She rolled her shoulders before she bit down on the pad of her thumb and ran a streak of blood down the length of the paper.

A sharp tug at her navel dragged her backwards and the ground dropped out from under her.

She landed a split second later in a midnight green forest overrun with frost, and the first thing she sees is six antlers and a pair of eyes that burn molten  _orange_.

:: ::

Kiba nearly flipped the low table when the air crackled and a body fell onto the ground beside him, moss and water lilies and river water streaming after it. His nose wrinkled at the sudden scent of evergreen that assaulted his senses as Shino shot to his feet and gaped at the shaking form that pushed itself up to its knees, an exhausted eye glaring steadily through a curtain of soaked, pink hair.

Kiba dove next to her and pushed the hair out her face and Shino rifled through the kit he kept on the shelf. With the smell of forest came the smell of blood; only the shredded remains of her sports bra cover her chest, and their eyes were drawn to the gash that drew from her left hip, curved through the valley between her breasts, and ended just below her right armpit.

One of Shino's hands flared peppermint and the other unrolled a coil of gauze, his insects swarming atop her minor cuts and bruises to stop any bleeding and assessing the full scope of the damage. Akamaru dashed into the bathroom to grab as many towels as he could and Kiba lowered her head into his lap when all of her energy drained out and she couldn't hold herself up any longer.

"What the hell happened?" Kiba demanded. "Why're you torn ta' shit?!"

Her eyes struggled to meet his and she smirked lightly. "I passed."

Shouting filled her ears as she blacked out.

:: ::

The next day, Bee opened the door to the kids' cell to the sight of Kiba and Sakura passed out in a pile of damp towels, moss, and water lilies, and a chakra-depleted Shino slumped over the table.

Akamaru padded around their bodies, pushing extra towels around to mop up the water and dropping bloodied gauze and cotton pads into the trash can.

"Oh boy..." he exhaled, and the huge white dog trotted up to him with pleading eyes and a slow wagging tail. "Y'all don't do things by halves, do you?"

Akamaru whined.

"Alright, don't you worry your fuzzy little head off, I got 'em."

Bee picked up Shino first and placed him on the bed closest to the wall. He'd always wondered why one of the first things they'd done was push all their beds together, and he only had to dwell on it for a little while to come up with an answer that made any sense: they were safe together. And he'd heard Kiba say something about them all being pack, and after everything they all went through, it wasn't any stretch of the imagination that none of them wanted to be alone.

He took Kiba next and set him in the center, where he immediately rolled to his right for his forehead to smack into Shino's shoulder. He didn't even flinch, and Bee held back a snort.

Last he carried Sakura over, mindful of the wounds on her torso as he laid her down at Kiba's other side, but unlike him she didn't move an inch. Her breathing was deep and her brow was pale, but it was nothing some rest and recovery wouldn't fix.

"Congrats," he whispered as he plucked a bit of moss out of her hair. Akamaru leapt onto the beds to curl at their feet. "Looks like sharks weren't it for you."

He left the cell and let C and Mabui know that none of their kids would be working today.

:: ::

**_To The December That Never Let You Be_ **

:: ::

Mabui watched in rapt fascination as Kiba used a toothpick from the restaurant they just came from to ink immobilization seals onto individual pieces of senbon. This was the improved version, he told her earlier. He'd worked on it a bit with his old sensei, but this time he could add more sequences to prolong the length of time the genjutsu could stay activated.

Typical seal theory had never held her interest. Not when they had their overview at the Actinoform Academy, not when her genin sensei had tried to explain it to her, not once at any time when she climbed up the ranks and made it as Raikage-sama's assistant.

But when Kiba talked about it, it was nothing like the way those stuffy sensei had tried to when she was twelve. He compared it to ridiculous anecdotes and explained his ideas with sweeping gestures and a wide grin that was almost always infectious.

She smiled when a particularly grumpy look crossed his face when he almost smudged a sequence.

"At this rate you might need a microscope."

"You think Shino can finesse me one?"

"Maybe if you ask him nicely," she chuckled. His jacket was thrown over the end of the table and he was left in his usual sleeveless mesh, his forearms and calves bound in crimson bandages. From her seat at his side it was easier to study the kanji on his bicep, and after an hour of careful observation she was able to pick out individual ideas on some of the lines, especially the ones she learned from all the time she spent with the Seals Division nowadays.

Summoning was one of its uses. Chakra storage was another.

Her musings had her drifting towards the drawers at the work table, Kiba's name penned on one of the name tags that labeled this space as his own. The sealed scrolls they brought with them when they first came to Kumo were stored in those drawers, untouched save for the times he'd taken out Sakura's sword and Shino's medical inventory.

"Your scrolls..." she mentioned. He grunted, not looking up from his work. "How come you've never taken anything out for yourself?"

The room had emptied up for the day, leaving the two of them in the back and Akamaru sniffing through a text by their feet. Kiba set down his toothpick and held his senbon up to dry as his free hand reached into the half-open drawer to pull out one of the three scrolls. When the senbon dried and was stacked with the rest of the finished slivers of metal, he unraveled the scroll on the length of the desk, nicked his thumb, and smeared his blood in a line down the center.

More texts, another sealed scroll, a gray jacket that didn't look to fit him anymore, and a jar filled with red paint appeared in a cloud of smoke.

(The paint wasn't Kumo red. It's lighter, vivid, more of a strain on the eyes.)

“Before we left on that first mission that brought us here we, uh, took all the stuff we thought was important to us," he explained. He pulled the jar close to him and twisted open the cap. Dried paint flaked around the edges and some of the top is cracked, and he almost dipped two fingers in like a reflex.

But his brow scrunched and he stopped.

He twisted the lid back on.

"Sakura really likes that katana and Shino's inventory is one of a kind, but..." He shrugged, and Mabui's heart cried for him. "All the stuff I think's important I pretty much already have with me. Right, Akamaru?"

An enthused bark. Kiba left the summoned scroll and texts back in the drawer but tossed the gray jacket and jar of red paint on the floor by his feet and picked up another senbon.

:: ::

Akamaru whimpered.

"Oh no, you don't get ta' complain 'bout this one! I said what I said 'bout runnin' through all those mountain goats but  _noooo_ , no one listens to Kiba! No one thinks Kiba's right! And look where it got you! Covered in these  _goddamn bugs_! If you ain't Shino you don't have an excuse!"

And now here he was, grumbling under his breath as he sat on the outskirts of a park with Akamaru sprawled over his lap as he plucked the ticks out his fur and tossed the little bastards into a plastic bag he'll burn to high hell when he finished.

Darui watched from his spot beside them, amused. "If it makes you feel any better, the seals you tested were able to identify intruders based upon intent."

"Yeah but how come NO ONE said the goats we worked with were  _infested_ with  _ticks_?!"

"Sorry, we didn't know. Thanks for figuring that out."

"You're  _welcome_."

Darui muffled his snort and pulled his cloak tighter around him to fend off the harsh air. It was always colder as high as they were with their thinner air and scattered clouds. Not to mention how harsh the snow could get, icing up the connecting bridges and causing shinobi to slip off the rooftops every now and again.

Kiba wasn't quite used to the bitter cold of Lightning Country. He shivered slightly under the cloth of his own cloak and his jacket and the tips of his fingers were pale as he dug around his partner's fur.

Darui couldn't help but wonder about the way things had fallen into place the past months. The boy who poured out his blood to jot down theories before he had the chance to forget them was practically a full-fledged member of the Seals Division, had Mabui who adored him like a little brother, and everyone that saw him saw a grinning thirteen year old genius with the fluffiest nin-dog as his companion—a kid too rowdy and too smart all at the same time.

But Darui knew better. Saw how the boy held himself in front of others differently than in front of his team.

Always smiling. Always the unpredictable. Then with his  _pack_ , thoughtful, angry, so heartbreakingly open.

He would never forget the day that same boy lost part of his hearing to save someone he didn't even know.

And that just wasn't a characteristic of someone who didn't know how to play up the cards to their own favor.

"Isn't it exhausting?"

"Huh? What is?"

"All of this." Darui gestured vaguely with one hand. "Bouncing around new seal ideas while keeping up five different conversations at a time. There's a whole corner in the workroom that just has your stacked notebooks since you started working there. You don't get that far without a goal in mind and don't tell me it's just 'cause you want to learn—I can see it in you. How everything drops when you think no one's looking anymore." Kiba twitched. "... Aren't you tired?"

Akamaru grew strangely subdued, his snout shutting and his head slowly rising off the ground. His back was rigid as he stared off into the distance, his tail stilling and his paws planting firmly into the dirt, just in case. Kiba lifted his ear to pluck a tick off the end of it, and Darui caught a glimpse of the tattoo along the inner pink skin: a black beetle surrounded by a faint green glow, a black senbon decorated with red seals, and a single dark pink cherry blossom pierced through with a blue katana.

"I'm always tired."

(A beast sealed in a boy. An underground lab. Kurenai-sensei. A greed for power. Corruption. Tenzo-san. The destruction of Konoha. Truths. Lies. Uchiha Itachi. A missing eye. A missing arm. A cell. Another. Blood on his hands every day for a month straight. Sai.)

Kiba sunk forward under the guise he was looking for more ticks.

(He won't let Darui know the weight on his shoulders only ever gets heavier.)

"Then why don't you rest?" Darui questioned. His voice was the same soft gravel, but he doesn't try to hide his genuine concern. Of course he was concerned. He'd known Kiba too long not to care, and he'd known Kiba too long to have not brought any of this up before.

Kiba flipped up Akamaru's other ear, on the inside were the words  **and the pack survived**.

"Because I'm not done yet," he said. The burning in his eyes was dangerous—raging, unrelenting, flashing with all he hated. "Not yet. But I'm pretty patient."

Another tick went into the bag.

"And when I finally get there,  _he's_  gonna wish he was dead before I got to him."

Darui didn't ask who "he" was or what Kiba had to finish, but he knew a vengeance when he saw one, so he sat back and said nothing.

Instead, he handed Kiba a pair of gloves before his fingers got frostbite.

:: ::

Heavy snow clogged the streets of Kumo as Sakura, Kiba, and Shino huddled against one of the walls on their combined beds, swathed in pillows and blankets after munching on tomato bredie and melktert and bone broth soup Enmu dropped off for them, "Courtesy of your friends," she said. Then, she'd slid over some thermoses of hot chocolate "with crushed chili peppers and fresh yak milk, and some cantaloupe water for Akamaru, from yours truly."

After their empty bowls and plates had stacked on the table and their thermoses steamed within reach on the book shelves, Shino tucked himself in the corner with Sakura's head in his lap and Kiba's head on her stomach. Akamaru curled between Kiba's hip and Sakura's legs and they'd shut off all the lights in the cell, leaving the one in the bathroom on for only the faint rays to reach them.

"You guys ever think 'bout Konoha at all?" Kiba asked, one arm clutching a pillow to his chest and the other holding on to Sakura's arm thrown over his collar bone. "I mean, yeah it was our home and I kinda miss but, but I dunno. It's hard ta' explain." He sighed and dropped his head back harder and Sakura whacked him in the head. "Kinda like... what're we supposed to do now?"

"You know what we're supposed to do."

"Yeah, but  _other_ than that. What're we gonna do before we get there?"

Silence swam through the cell for a time, and it was no longer odd for their minds to pull them elsewhere in moments like these. They'd sometimes lose themselves to their thoughts and memories and things they couldn't forget with only each other to pull themselves back to the ground.

"We'll do what's best," Sakura said. "Protect those behind us."

"Aid those beside us," added Shino as he took off his glasses and settled in for sleep, his hand intertwined in pink hair.

Kiba, half-lidded and drowsy, drew a wide-mouthed yawn that made his fangs glimmer in the low light. "And be the nightmare to those who'll try and stop us."

"Hm," Sakura muttered, eyes closed and Akamaru's damp nose poking near her ankles. "Not bad."

They were asleep before midnight, missing the crest of the new year and the celebrations of the Kumor down on the streets below.

:: ::

**_January Helped Us_ **

:: ::

Shino was clocking out of his shift when a particularly mouthy patient was wheeled in from around the corner, leering at every person that passed. They were chock-full of anesthesia and not even remotely close to their right of mind, and he made to walk past to continue on with his day.

"Hey pretty nurse, you gotta—gotta fix me up  _real_ good."

R threw up an apologetic smile that barely hid his grimace as he quickened his pace towards the operating rooms. Shino's face remained blank and met Yugito by the entrance. She greeted him with her cheered smile and they walked towards the greenhouses, his hands stiff in his pockets and just out of her sight.

But something in that blankness he donned must have been different this time, because the moment the glass doors closed behind him and he transferred some materials to his work bench, she took a seat on the stool and pinned him with a look.

"Don't let that get to you," she said. "He was hopped up on drugs and didn't know what he was saying. And if he did, you were in full rights to punch his face in."

"The jeering." When Shino's confusion didn't clear up, she pointed to his hands. "Your knuckles were white when you pulled them out your pockets. Wasn't the jeering what bothered you?"

"... No." Shino flipped on his microscope. "I didn't care about that. Why? He was a patient in the hospital on high dosage, I understand some reactions to medication are unsavory."

"So it was...?"

"He called me... nurse."

Yugito blinked a few times, then squinted and crossed her arms. "So he called you by the wrong title?"

He adjusted the light on the microscope, carefully picking out his words. What he should say, what he shouldn't. And there seemed to be little that he shouldn't. "Nurse is—was—what they called me in the Coliseum. A nickname, because it was easier to cheer for an alias than a real name. Why? It's a degree of separation; not knowing a real name removes a personal attachment, so I suppose it's more like cheering for your favorite animal rather than a person," he replied. He sorted through the box of parasite samples he kept in the freezer. Yugito straightened and Matatabi's tails swished; she'd heard of his and his team's origins, only scarcely, the bare bones of it all, but this was the first time she heard anything from him. "They called Kiba  _Senbon_ because of his proclivity for them and they called Sakura  _Hammerhead_ because the first thing she'd done was headbutt a guard while they brought us out to the arena for the first time."

He picked out a petri dish and defrosted it with a warm burst of chakra and placed it beneath the magnifier. "I killed many that month and a half," he told her quietly. One of his hands reached up to brush against his neck, and she didn't think he knew he was doing it. "And every time I won, they would cheer for  _Nurse_."

Yugito could only imagine what it would be like stuck in a place like the Coliseum.

**_'He's a strong one.'_ **

_'He shouldn't have gone through that.'_

**_'None of us get to decide on the trials we face, Yugito-chan,'_** Matatabi's voice was a cool whisper through her head.  ** _'That particular one was over now. There's no use in dwelling.'_**

She spied the droop in his shoulders and gently grasped his forearm. "Hey. You made it here. You're Kumor now."

Shino smiled faintly. His healed tattoo brushed faintly against his shirt and he thought of R, all his comrades at the hospital. He remembered the moment C finally accepted him as a medic and as a person, and his heart heavied in a way only Kiba and Sakura could ever really understand.

"I live in Catatumbo, Yugito-san," he reminded her gently. Yugito's eyes flashed and she let his arm free from her hold—the arm so clearly marked with prisoner bands beneath sleeves and bandages. Shino made a few notes, stored the sample, and picked out a new one. "The only Kumor I can ever be is partly."

He turned back to experiment as she sat by and watched, stricken with silence.

Because what could you say to something like that?

:: ::

"Hey, where's your mini-me?"

Airashi, one of Cirrus Central's more senior medics, hopped up onto the corner of C's desk, his fiery orange hair bouncing with the movement. His hand would have smudged the ink on some newly signed forms if they weren't moved to the side at the last second.

C sighed. "Who?"

He wasn't impressed with the  _are-you-serious_  look cast his way.

"Your mini-me? Your apprentice? Shino?"

"Shino's my apprentice?

"Are you—really? You sponsored him to work at the hospital, taught him the rounds, assigned him an entire ward to himself to a month, let him work on Yugito-san," he listed, counting off each instance on a finger. C frowned down at his papers. "You even got him a donut last Monday! You never buy anyone donuts! You might as well be his  _dad_!"

"I'm not his dad." C pinched his brow and sighed again. Why was it that every time Airashi stopped by it brought another headache? "But... he might be my apprentice," he relented.

Images of a boy so lost in his exhaustion as he wasted away on the concrete floors of an empty cell flickered through his mind, as did the sight of cuts both fresh and still-new and all the days C came in to make sure he was still alive and breathing, that he hadn't killed himself from all the chakra he forced through the metal prison to heal and heal and heal.

C wanted to laugh at the thought. The shackles they'd worn in the earlier months of their imprisonment were hanging in Catatumbo's store room for months now, unused.

"Though Shino should be—"

There were two knocks on the door and Shino strode in with a couple files in hand and a few pens in the pocket of his long white coat. C gestured at him and took the folders. "—right here."

The teen's glasses were still fixed over his face with those odd orange rims and his hair was tied up in a messy bun.

He looked nothing like the Konohan in the empty prison cell.

(He looked like Shino.)

"Did you need me for something?"

"Just to tell you the good news," Airashi grinned. "The new shipment of sterile nitrile gloves came in today."

Both C and Shino leaned forward ever so slightly. "And?" the latter pressed.

"And the board switched us back to the Phthalo brand!"

The two slumped in relief and those outside who heard shouted their victory. The last shipment they'd gotten had been filled with some second-rate gloves that tore every other time one of the staff tried to put them on and were so flimsy and pathetic it incited a deep rage that no one quite knew they had. A shipment normally lasted the entire hospital five or six months, but the hatred for those budge-cut gloves had the stock used up in a month, a Cirrus Central record.

C twirled a pen in his hand as he watched Airashi go off on those second-rate gloves as Shino listened with thinly veiled amusement. It was such a small thing, such a niche problem that rallied up the doctors and nurses and receptionists that others probably wouldn't care to understand.

And Shino was here to share it with them. To befriend the other staff and to have returning patients come in and ask  _'oh, and how's Shino-san doing?'_

It made C... happy to see the development. Proud, even.

That this Konohan had become one of them.

At the end of the day when C and Shino finished up their shifts for the day and they stepped out into the lively Kumo night, C didn't lead them on one of the paths towards Catatumbo. Shino was curious, but it wasn't until their light conversation made it all the way to Parhelic Circle that he truly voiced his confusion.

"Are we meant to be here?"

"Yes. Well." C cleared his throat. "You know how Sakura-san's tattoo is an apprentice tattoo?"

:: ::

The skies were dark and the stars shimmered overhead when Shino returned to the cell. Sakura tended to her sword on the couch, Akamaru nosed through a couple books on the table, and Kiba hung upside down off the bed with one hand holding him up and the other holding a page of seals close to his face.

He settled on the couch and accepted the mug of tea Sakura passed over.

"Long day?" she inquired.

"A bit," he replied. He placed his mug on the table and hiked up his right pant leg all the way up to his knee. "I saw Siphepho-san today."

An outline of a butterfly, orange around the wings and a white streak along the top sat on the back of his calf.

The  _Greta Oto._

(C walked home with the same one in the same place.)

:: ::

**_February Kept Us_ **

:: ::

On a Sunday in Ame, Kisame sat by the window in his apartment and gazed out onto the streets.

How interesting it was for the sunny days to be the dullest days. The signs didn't gleam, the roads didn't glow, the people didn't bustle about like they would under a sky that never let up for anyone.

He dragged his eyes from the streets to the lake that surrounded the village.

It was coming up on two years since he'd last seen his pup.

He'd been meaning to check up on her, to stop by or send Kasumi or  _something_ , but every time he tried... something at the back of his head always stopped him. Every day he waited, Sakura grew older. Stronger. Wiser. And every day that passed was another hesitation in his skin, his muscles, his bones.

She... was probably more than capable of taking care of herself now. What right did he have to interfere with that? She wasn't someone who needed to be watched and he forfeited the right to be in her life the moment he left her all alone in that abandoned warehouse with a promise he couldn't keep.

_"Remember I'll always come back for you."_

And Konoha protected their own, didn't they? More so than other villages anyway.

He was getting sick with worry over nothing.

 _'But I still want to see her,'_  he thought solemnly.  _'Before she's all grown up.'_

Though it might be a little too late for that.

A takeout box slid in front of him while someone took a seat in the chair to his right as they set down two capped cups of jaljeera and their own takeout. Konan was unconcerned at her unannounced entry, and Kisame was far too used to it to really care.

"What's this for?"

"I had a feeling you hadn't eaten today. Was I correct?"

"Heh. A lil' too on the nose, but I won't turn down free food." He flipped open the styrofoam top, the karimeen fry inside making his mouth water instantly. "Konan-san, you're too good to me."

She opened her own box of chicken biryani and snapped apart her chopsticks. They dug into their meals in a midst of quiet, but it was no different than all their other meetups. Whether they argued over the most recent ice hockey matches on frozen-over marshes or sat and simply enjoyed each other's company, it was nice.

"I thought you'd be out preparing for the festival tomorrow."

For February 20th, the Festival of Colored Rain. For as long as he remembered, citizens swell the streets dressed in all white. There would be food and dance and song under a cloudy, dry sky, and once the clock struck four pm on the dot, the heavens cried and white clothes suddenly exploded into color.

A festival that honored God's ascension. Kisame never participated and preferred to watch from the tops of the tallest buildings.

"I needed a break," she admitted. She sipped her drink. "Would you mind if I took it here?"

"Knock yourself out."

The next hour or so was spent chatting about preparations for the morning and how the air outside thickened with the scent of slowly broiling meats and slow cooking curries.

They waited for the day to pass, a little less lonely together, and they waited for the rain.

:: ::

A sighed. Heavily. Like all the air in his lungs had left him in the same moment and he was only a hair's breadth away from gasping for more. Cirrus Central's efficiency was at an all time high, the Seals Division was churning out so many answers to so many questions they didn't know they had, and Bee had been keeping out of the usual trouble save for the occasional impromptu rap concerts he managed to crop up.

He stroked his goatee as he stood on the roof of Catatumbo Penitentiary, overlooking the village and breathing in the biting air.

Had he gone too soft? Had he lost himself in allowing those Konoha shinobi to live?

He never interacted with them long enough to get an answer for himself, as if he'd allow himself the chance to gain that unwanted  _attachment_ —something many of his own shinobi had forgone. Even Mabui, his trusted assistant, advisor, right-hand, had taken one of the prisoners under her wing and mentioned him often.

A sighed again.

He had absolute faith in his people. He trusted them to do what was right as long as no harm came from it, and he wasn't about to hover over their shoulders making sure their right was always  _his_ right. They were good people, and for all the trouble it would have brought should the word get out, it was clear they saw as much in the Konohans as well.

He didn't know which way this was going to turn. He didn't know how long it would be until someone got a little too curious and found three teenagers had been holed up in Catatumbo this whole time with bands on their forearms like a brand they would have to bear the rest of their lives.

A thought about the seals on their tongues and the mice on their necks, and he bore a single thread of guilt.

It wouldn't be like they didn't have practice in permanence.

He quickly wiped away his sympathetic streak and frowned.

Whatever would happen would happen, and when it did, he'd deal with it accordingly.

:: ::

Five figures whispered amongst themselves, hushed arguments hidden in the Kumogakure night under the shadow of knowing stars.

"You heard them that day. I know we've grown to care for them but what you're proposing for us to do—"

"Just like you said, it's sooner or later. If it's done now, if we figure out how, then we can get it down without sweat on our brow."

 **_'To think your recklessness would know_ ** **some** **_bounds!'_ **

A sigh. A pair of hands stuffed into pants pockets. "They're doing fine here, aren't they? They're Kumor, they're integrated as much as they can get." A considering silence. "Surely you can't think doing this so soon is the best idea?"

"They live in Catatumbo and aren't allowed to go wherever they please without an escort, how much do you think they can take? No matter how they've grown and what we've done for them, at the end of the day they're the same as they were when they first came here. Prisoners. And you know them well enough they're not the type to settle." Twenty-seven seconds passed. "... They deserve so much more than this."

Guilt. Regret. Remorse. Shame.

"This is crazy. And you know what else is crazy? That I'm actually starting to think about doing it." A frustrated puff of air, long blonde hair swaying. "But that day in their cell when we didn't know what we were listening for... The way they talked about this someone they wanted to kill—they'll stop at nothing. And the longer we keep this up..."

**_'Do not blame them for their vengeance. There are some things that can never be forgiven.'_ **

Only one had yet to speak and it was to them they all turned to, waiting, wondering, listening for the next words to sway the jury.

Short blond hair brushed over dark eyes, a calf tattoo burned, and a mouth opened. "If we don't give them this, after everything, how can we look at ourselves in the mirror and think we've done nothing wrong?"

It was four in the morning.

Soon, it would be dawn.

:: ::

**_But March Set Us Free_ **

:: ::

"Shino-san, I can't believe you didn't tell me!" R pouted. Shino slowly stopped writing on his clipboard as he raised his head, his expression constructed into a perfectly blank mask he made sure was no different than the face he normally wore on his shifts. "If we would've known we would've thrown you a party and everything!"

Millions of scenarios ran through his head, not a single one good, and his kikai fidgeted around his veins. "For what?"

"What do you mean 'for what'? You put in your two weeks notice, like two weeks ago! Isn't today your last day at Cirrus Central? And mind you, I had to hear about it from Kohei-san on the third floor because he heard from—"

Shino's eyes darted from spot to spot around R. He hadn't heard anything about putting in his resignation. He hadn't even known putting in a resignation was  _possible_ for someone in his position. Unless...

He glanced around for C. He wasn't there.

"—so why're you leaving anyway?"

"Ah... I suppose it was time for me. Why? I was here longer than I expected."

"Back to Imvula, right?"

"Right."

Shino forced a small smile onto his face and tried to calm the quickening pace of his heart. He knew this would come sooner or later but a little forewarning would have been nice, and perhaps it would all be easier to take if he hadn't liked any of the Kumor he'd met.

After all, Kumo kept them alive for much longer than they had to, hadn't they?

:: ::

Q and Airashi burst through the doors half an hour later with a farewell cake and half the staff gathering to tell him how much they'd miss him.

With every word they said, another stone dropped in his stomach.

:: ::

His very last shift at the hospital ended at ten at night on March 28th when the sun was long gone and the air still lingered with the cold of a harsh winter. Yugito was already waiting for him at the back entrance, and C was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey," she smiled, and it held nothing of her usual liveliness. It was a bit wistful, maybe even bittersweet if he dared think it. His kikai hummed louder and urged him to do something—to run, to scream, to live like the way he'd fought for it over and over again.

But fighting the Coliseum was different than fighting an entire village. He wouldn't win. They wouldn't win.

"Good evening," he returned. They walked down the path to Catatumbo, then they were at Catatumbo, and then they were past Catatumbo and all the fear that curled in his chest throughout the day broke past his ribs. Sweat shone on the back of his neck and his fingers began to twitch.

It would be easier if his friends weren't the ones to kill him.

And if he asked... would they let him say goodbye to his pack?

Where they would execute him, would they—

Yugito grabbed his upper arm and threw them both off the side of one of the plateaus and they scaled the side until they swung down into the alcove too far down to be seen by any of the bridges and too far up to see what awaited down below.

"Yugit—"

"Hold on," she said. She reached into the pouch on her waist and pulled out a couple scrolls he easily recognized as made by Kiba's hand, untied the kunai pouch around her thigh, and yanked off the med kit hanging off the red sash on her hip.

All of it was thrust into his hands.

"Store them all tightly, make sure none of it can come loose," she demanded. Shino frowned and drew himself up to full height, and he allowed his kikai's buzzing to be just loud enough to be an undercurrent to his words.

"Why?" he asked. She pursed her lips, glanced up, then back to him.

"We don't have a lot of time," she stressed, and that alone was enough to stop him. " _Please_."

So he did. He tucked the scrolls in a hidden pocket in the lining of his coat, linked the kunai pouch around his thigh, and clipped the med kit on his hip. All the while, his stare never left her, and she allowed a fleeting thought about how unnerving those dark lenses were under the blanket of a sky of blackened blue.

Yugito only turned away when someone silently slipped into the alcove with them, crowding them all further into the already tight space.

C stood in all his gear, yet another white flak vest dangled from his hands.

And then it was in Shino's before he could blink.

"There's a lake at the bottom, deepest in the middle and more shallow the closer you get to the banks. Aim for the center and dive either feet first or head first with your arms over your head—it'll hurt less because—"

"Less surface area means less impact," Shino finished unconsciously, his mind drifting to all the hours spent at the Aquatic Center in Konoha. He shook his head and ran the pad of his thumb over the rough cloth of the vest as he looked up at C and Yugito.

Their eyes were the same. That bittersweet.

"What's going on?"

"There's a compass in your kit. When you get to the bottom head Northwest and find the red sash tucked in the hollow of the tree by the Green River. You won't be the first one there, it'll be easier," Yugito told him. She gripped his shoulder. "And Shino?"

He wracked his brain. Tried to think about what's happening. Pulling pieces apart and putting them back together in different places, because they still haven't told him anything.

"Yes?"

"Promise me one thing?"

He was silent as he stared at that smile that would never reach her eyes, and it all snapped together suddenly, like a stretched rubber band let go.

_Oh._

He tipped his head.

"Promise me that we'll see each other again."

Matatabi took her host's throat for a few moments, and it was the first time Shino ever heard the beast speak. " ** _It was a pleasure knowing you, young one,_** " she murmured. Her voice was like a low song sung from the earth, everything grounded and nothing left behind. " ** _I wish you luck._** "

Luck.

It had been a long, long time since he had any.

She receded nearly as quickly as she came and his other shoulder was squeezed by C. Both he and Yugito lean forward and press their foreheads against his for a brief moment of warmth and quiet, and when they pulled back, Shino saw one last sad smile, and one last assuring nod.

They pushed him off the alcove.

He fell.

:: ::

Earlier that morning Mabui dropped Kiba and Akamaru off at the Seals Division work space in a flurry, only managing a quick  _hello_ and  _goodbye_ before she was off, probably to attend to something for the Raikage. He shrugged off the odd interaction before stepping into the room with the hope of combing through the few more books he found yesterday.

But he found scrolls and scrolls stacked on his desk along with ample amounts of ink and brushes and Darui sitting by them all, his gaze half-lidded as he stared out the window.

Kiba narrowed his eyes. Akamaru made sure to keep his jaws close to Darui's legs.

"What's with all a' this?" Kiba asked as he strode around the table and towards his stool. The man's eyes only moved his way when he sat.

"How many of the things in the cell are yours? As in yours, Shino-san's, Sakura-san's," he questioned, completely casting aside the previous question like it was never asked.

"Uh? Like, half the books, all the clothes, the stuff we had from before—"

"How many storage scrolls can you make to fit them all?"

Kiba's face morphed into the beginning of a snarl at the interruption, but the look Darui gave him had him shut his mouth with the click of his teeth and crossed his arms. "How much time I got?"

"Four hours."

"Four heavy-duty scrolls, three if you want a quad-lock on each, and two if you want to add a genjutsu layer. But Sakura's better at doin' that than me." He sniffed and found nothing different in the room. No new scents. Nothing out of place. "Why?"

"Just make what you can without Sakura-san's help. Four hours. That's all you have."

Kiba pulled open the drawer, because if he wasn't being told what's going on he could at least work with his favorite brush, and he's met with plain metal. All his stuff was gone, including the scrolls they came to Kumo with. "What the  _fuck_ —"

"Kiba, please." Darui's tone ended with a pleading edge that Kiba had never heard before, and it slowly ate away at his anger until it was a low simmer. "Make the scrolls and let me know when you're done. And don't worry about any distractions; the rest of the division isn't coming in until twelve."

It was nine.

Kiba got to work.

He didn't feel as the minutes ticked on, soothed at least by the crisp edges of paper and newly opened ink. Darui hadn't said a single word and instead went back to staring out that damn window, and Akamaru hasn't moved from his station. Kiba hadn't a clue what was even going on or what was up with the normally chill nin and frankly, he'd only care once he was done with all this work.

But as he touched up on the third scroll, the first Seals Division member came in for the day.

Brown hair, dark eyes, strong jaw; Yotsuki Kiyoi had come in early today, and that just made everything weirder.

"What's up, Kiyoi-san? Department Head finally get on your ass for your late clock-ins?" Kiba greeted. Kiyoi laughed and set his bag by his table.

"He stopped whining after I figured out that fifteen year old seal we dug up from the Archives, but I'm makin' today the only exception. I wanted to see you before you head off to Wind Country to continue your seal studies," he said. A brush rolled off the desk and Kiyoi bent to pick it up, missing the sharp jerk of Akamaru's head and Kiba's widening eyes. Each drop of the teen's blood crystallized into something heavy and cold and he glanced at Darui who didn't look back. "I also just... I really wanted to thank you for saving my life that day."

Kiyoi walked up and leaned against the edge of Kiba's table. "If it weren't for me you wouldn't have, well..." He gestured at the seal strips hanging from pierced earlobes.

Kiba grinned wide, all his panic expertly hidden away. "Come on, you know it wasn't a big deal. I make these earrings look good."

A few more people who trickled in all bid him the same goodbyes, wish him luck and congrats on the  _apprenticeship_ he'd gotten with some big-shot seals master who lived an hour or two away from Suna and had agreed to take him on after he submitted a thesis on the possibility of layering odd and even seals even though it was proven to be impossible.

Which was bullshit, by the way. Because he didn't send shit to  _Wind_ to some wack-ass seals master.

He finished the third scroll with thirty minutes to spare, and when he informed Darui as much, the nin only nodded and helped him carry the scrolls back up to Catatumbo. Enmu wasn't even at her post when they passed and, oddly, no one else had come to take her place.

"Pack everything. Shino-san's, Sakura-san's, yours, all of it," Darui directed the moment he pushed open the cell door.

"Are you gonna tell us what the fuck's goin' on or—"

"No," Darui cut in, and Kiba sputtered. "Take everything that's yours. Leave nothing behind."

In ten minutes, the cell had lost all it's life. In thirteen minutes, they were at the top of the six thousand five hundred seventy two steps that led up to Kumo.

Mabui was waiting for them when they arrived, and almost immediately she pulled Kiba to her side. She patted his arms, makes sure his jacket's zipped, and made those weird little tugs on his hair that Hana used to do whenever she thought his head looked too messy.

"Mabui-san, what the hell—"

"Just one moment, Kiba-kun—"

It was the middle of the way and the village was at its busiest, but that didn't stop Darui from bombarding him with the questions he'd been hearing all morning:  _do you have everything are you sure have you made the scrolls are they guarded is everything in them is that all?_

"What's happening right now?!" Kiba exploded in a whisper-yell when the fussing was suddenly too much. Both Darui and Mabui back off guiltily and exchange a look that set his blood to simmer. "What was everyone goin' on 'bout a seals master and Wind Country and a thesis I sure as hell didn't do?! And why isn't anyone  _telling us anything_?"

Darui, still, didn't give an answer. He only handed over half the scrolls.

"The other half we'll hand off to Shino-san," Mabui reassured, which did absolutely jack shit to reassure him at all. If anything, it made his mouth dry and his hands twitch for a senbon. But then her hand came up to hold his bicep, her palm against his tattoo, and she smiled shakily. "Kneel for no one, Kiba-kun, and remember that no matter what happens Kumo will always have a place for you."

She planted a kiss on the side of his head, and it felt like a goodbye.

The world suddenly felt small.

"And," Darui continued, "here's hoping you'll never get thrown into another cell. At least for a while." The joke fell flat but he had nothing better, and he patted Akamaru's head a few times as his lazy smile slowly melted off his face. Akamaru muscles were rigid, heavy bricks at the contact as his eyes trailed the Kumo-nin’s every movement. This wasn’t a hand that would grab his neck and shove it into a collar, nor a hand that would bring glass bottles or cups or pipes over head.

This was the hand of a friend he knew he wouldn’t see for a long while.

The apprehension spilled out of him and he angled his nose to brush against the palm on his head, then he edged forward to lick the back of Mabui’s hand once.

Darui’s patting stilled. "You two run fast, don't you?"

"... Yeah? I guess?"

He pressed a piece of paper into Kiba's hand and Mabui leaned forward with shining eyes as she whispered, "Read this, get rid of it, and run. Don't look back."

And he understood. This was the moment he thought he'd one day have to take for himself and for his pack, a moment that only seemed real through a spray of blood, broken bones, and tears that came on so strong that he wouldn't have been able to wipe them away no matter how hard he tried.

He didn't think this moment would simply come because someone else thought it needed to.

Freedom rang in his ears. It didn't sound as sweet as he imagined.

"I—"

" _Go_ ," her and Darui urged.

They listened. They went as fast as their feet could take them.

They didn't look back.

:: ::

Motoi nodded his satisfaction at Sakura's work, both proud and a bit saddened of what was to come. "You've learned well," he said. "This was your last lesson and you've passed it with flying colors." He sighed. "I only hope that one day I see it come to fruition."

Sakura stopped drinking from her water bottle and turned to him. "What do you mean?"

"This is the last time you'll be on Genbu. For a long time, I imagine." He tilted his head at her expression and puffed out a breath of air, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Bee-sama didn't tell you. Though I admit I only found out about this scarcely two weeks ago, but—"

"Tell me  _what_?"

"That we're letting you go."

Sakura turned towards Bee as he walked into the clearing and Motoi pointedly looked away, still unable to meet his comrade's eyes after all these years. "It was easier to not let you know, though, 'cause my bro's gonna riot when we break the quiet." He hummed at her terribly unreadable demeanor. "What's with that face, Ibunzi? Thought you'd be jumping for joy when you found out you get to flee."

"I... don't think I understand. Shino, Kiba, and Akamaru—"

"That Kiba kid should be ahead if it all went to plan, and that Shino'll come after you." She blinked. "They'll have gotten all your stuff sure enough, and everyone'll do their best to come through." Bee tipped his head back towards the darkening skies. "We'll head out soon. I'll take you halfway before we see the moon."

Bee patted the back of her head before he bounded off, leaving Sakura with the acute awareness that something abruptly shifted beneath her feet. There weren’t many things that surprised her nowadays, not since that fateful day Danzo had come to mark them for his sins, but this…

Bee once told her he would do anything for his students. She didn’t think this would be one of them.

She shushed the rapid beating of her heart by rubbing her chest and focusing on her breathing. One, two, in.  _Remember what you witnessed here._  One, two, out.  _This doesn’t happen to fools who think they couldn’t change the world._

Sakura raised her eyes towards the direction her mentor disappeared off to, but before she followed she looked back and raised her arm towards Motoi.

He grasped the space just below her elbow, just at the bands he once saw and ignored, and she did the same.

"I'll never be able to repay you."

"All I ask is that you take care of yourself," he said softly. "Live, and live well."

One final squeeze and she was off to catch up with Bee.

It was a silent journey to whatever halfway point he mentioned, and by the time they stopped there was a strip of color on the horizon; deep and pink and orange and alive and something she hadn't taken much care into watching until now.

"There's a red sash in a tree by the river that flows green. Make sure you keep cover below the trees, it'll keep you unseen." Bee traced the line of the sunset. "But before you dip on this trip..."

He pulled out a rope belt from his pack and passed it to her. It was nearly identical to his own—the same red, just a little thinner. The tough cord was a firm weight in her hand and the near scrape of the brand new edges caught on her callouses.

There was a small clog in her throat. She didn't know why.

"Thank you," she managed. "To you and Hachibi-san, for this—for everything." Her fingers curled tighter around the rope. "For letting us have this chance."

Gyuuki kept silent as Bee held out his fist for her to bump, but when she lifted her right arm to do so, he clutched her wrist and yanked her into hug. His arms were a warm pressure in the cooler night and felt too much like the hugs her father used to give her when she thought he was the sun, and she wrapped her arm around him too, just to hold on for a little while longer.

Then it hit her.

She didn't want to let go.  _She didn't want to let go._

… But she did.

"Thank you," she whispered again. She took a step back no matter how much her heart pleaded her not to and looked up at the small smile he cracked.

"Make sure when you're out there, you change the world," he said. She snorted half-heartedly and turned Northwest, a sting behind her eyes and the whisper of old memories in her ears.

But before she could take that first step, Bee called out to her one last time.

"Ibunzi."

She looked over her shoulder, the belt under her arm and the sunset behind her burning so bright it almost hurt.

"Happy Fourteenth Birthday."

She smiled in the way that melted the ice in her eyes and somehow erased the look of a thousand burdens past and the knowledge of a thousand more to come.

She smiled, and he knew he'd miss her.

And when she leapt off the cliff towards the lower landmasses, it was towards the life her and her team had to live on. Away from the place that put those bands on their arms. Away from Kumo.

She fell, and she didn't look back.


	6. Molt

Two bleary-eyed chuunin guards at Konoha's southern gates—Hijiri Shimon and Akimichi Makaro—sat up straight at the sight of the group slowly making their way up to the check-in station. The early morning skies were at their darkest and there wasn't a single star in the sky. Light poured from the lanterns that hung at the station and the three piked up down the path, and when the figures close in, the guards could at least calm at the sight of what appeared to be a weary team of teens and their animal companion. Maybe chuunin by their age and state of dress.

And honestly, this team looked terrible. The canine stalking in the front had mats in his fur, some of those white hairs stained a sickening green. It was a hulking mass of a beast that stood maybe three feet tall from paw to shoulder, and if it ever poised on its hind legs there was a very real thought that it could reach six feet.

(The Green River had been aptly named from its ungodly amounts of algae to the aquatic plants that littered the river bed. It only took a quick soak and the few minutes of slathering crushed plant matter all over his body for it all to stick.)

Next to it was the shortest of the group: a brown-haired boy with a grimace on his lips, wrinkled tags on his ears, a smattering of cuts littering one side of his body, and his mesh shirt torn at the chest. He was wild around the eyes, dark irises darting back and forth until it landed on the guards with an almost unnatural precision like a hunter searching out its prey.

(Lightning Country was covered in hills and mountains and cliffs. A quick tumble down one was enough to dishevel, but a couple more brought out a battered look that could be mistaken for battle-worn.)

In the middle was another boy with dark glasses over his eyes that had orange rims one of the guards could have sworn was familiar. Mud smeared all over his heavy fern green jacket and his black pants and the bandage wrapped around his thigh was spotting red. His limp wasn't noticeable, not really, but it was there.

(A month cutting himself up in a cell on his own made him used to certain types of pain. It wasn't hard to dig a kunai into his own thigh and carry on like it hurt when it didn't. And if he made sure to track through patches of mud and dispel his chakra through his colony, no one said anything about it.)

And bringing up the rear was the tallest of them—a girl with pink hair and leather pauldrons that stayed fastened on her shoulders. A sword swung at her hip, as does a chain of rusting kusari-fundo, and a red rope is wound diagonally over her chest. Dried blood dribbled from the corner of her mouth and it was hard not to notice the distinct lack of half an arm.

(The blood was easy. A few nicks here and there, one trip down the side of a cliff, and a couple of trudges through thorned bushes were enough. There was no need to excess more injuries when she knew they would all focus on the arm she no longer had.)

Shimon and Makaro stood when the team finally stopped in front of them, the glow of the lanterns lighting up their faces with heavy shadows.

"N-Name and registration, please," Makaro requested. He nearly flinched when the first boy's glare landed on him.

"Inuzuka Kiba. Chuunin. Shinobi ID: oh-one-two-six-two-oh. Ninken companion: Akamaru."

Shimon's eyes flashed in recognition as he pulled out a book and searched.

Then, the next boy. "Aburame Shino. Chuunin." He observed Shimon's nervous page flipping. "Shinobi ID: zero-one-two-six-one-eight."

Last, the girl, who inclined her head down at them. "Sakura, no surname. Chuunin. Shinobi ID: zero-one-two-six-oh-one."

Shimon turned to somewhere in the second half of the book, gulped, and raised his head. His long brown bangs brushed against his face. "You're all supposed to be... dead."

And Kiba cracked the  _widest_ grin.

"Ya' hear that?" He nudged Sakura, fangs bright in the yellow gleam of lit wicks. "They listed us as dead." He barked a laugh drained of all its humor and dropped a fist on the desk. Shimon and Makaro grabbed their weapons, but that didn't stop him from leaning forward despite the threat of injury. If anything, he looked a little excited. "Look. We've had a long few days tryna make it here and honestly, we've had a  _long_ year and a half or whatever the hell it was of us 'bein' dead.' And I know there's this process and all these questions we gotta answer..." He sighed, but the grin was still plastered on his face. "Let's just make it easier for all of us and get on with it, yeah?"

"Get on with what?" Makaro bit, eyes narrowed and his stance ready to pounce at any second.

"Whatever interrogation you have for us. Why? It's standard procedure of any Konoha shinobi to be admitted through the security measures required of those who have been off the grid for six months or more." Shino raised one of his brows, as if to challenge them. "Unless things have changed. I suppose over a year of being away some things are bound to be different, after all."

Some of his kikai crawled along the skin of his cheek, and Shimon pressed his lips together—at least that was further proof that this was the supposed dead heir of Aburame Shibi.

Akamaru's growl snapped him out of his thoughts, and he took a quick step away from those sharp teeth.

"No, nothing has changed," Shimon said. Sakura hasn't said a word since her introduction, merely watching the conversation with a cold gaze that flickered with the lantern light. He would like nothing more than to look away from that piercing stare, but he figured it far more polite to meet her eyes instead of staring at her left arm bandaged at the elbow instead.

Up close, he recognized her. He'd seen her once or twice outside the Intelligence Building and she'd been friends with Aoba.

And the way he remembered her, she'd been in use of both arms.

"Then you'll comply and allow yourselves to be escorted to the T&I Building?" Makaro questioned firmly.

"Sure," Kiba grinned, and Makaro's really starting to hate that look. "But we haven't been out of Konoha long 'nough to forget where it is, so you don't need ta' lead the way."

:: ::

Tsunade tapped her fingers against her bicep as she stared at the team in the interrogation room who all sat around the same metal table, wrists and ankles shackled with the chains melded into the ground as they waited silently for their verdict.

Behind the one way glass, she frowned. "What do you have for me, Morino?"

"We questioned them each individually and their stories matched, for the most part. Got some parts mixed up by days or hours, but that's to be expected. They also fill in pretty much all the gaps their leader's mission report had," Ibiki said, reading through the case file in his hands. "They were sent on their mission, got caught by the Coliseum, and participated in the battles for a month and a half."

"The Coliseum? You mean the one where all those stuffy rich pricks were dog-fighting shinobi and no one could find out where it was until the whole  _island_ burned down?"

"The one and only. A massive break out is what caused that fire and they were able to escape on a boat that took them up to Lightning. Their team leader had been with them at the Coliseum, but after was where they split due to an attack by Lightning's border patrol." Inside the room, Kiba dropped his head into his palm and closed his eyes with a tired sigh. Shino kept his arms on the table as he stared at a dent in the metal and across from him, Sakura scratches Akamaru's ears. "Kumogakure took them prisoner for almost a year and half."

"Really?" Tsuande had met A once or twice when she still wandered around the nations looking for decent gambling halls and drunk her nights away. He was one of those tough guys she'd helped when no other subordinate could heal one of his shinobi; then, her hemophobia had been at its peak. "And they got  _out_?"

Ibiki huffed. "That's what I said. But they'd made friends with one of the guards and she helped them get out before they got sent to the chopping block. We grilled them for twelve hours—no lies detected, no mind tampering, no seals to worry about." He snapped the file shut. "Actually, we had to grill the Inuzuka a little longer about the seals he had. The one on his shoulder has simple summoning properties and chakra storage mechanisms, and the ones on his ears help him hear."

"Alright, the kid's got auditory stabilizers. How'd he get them?"

"Claims he made them himself."

"And did he?"

"Yamanaka gave him a test sheet to gauge his competence," he said. Kiba's head slipped out his hand and would have smacked against the table if Shino hadn't reached out to pillow his fall. Ibiki looked on in disbelief. "Turns out you can learn a few things being kept so long in enemy territory."

Tsunade continued to tap her fingers against her arm, and thinks. She'd heard of them—how could she not? In the first week of their KIA declaration the heads of both the Aburame and Inuzuka clan, respectively, shouldered their way into her office to demand another search. But there were  _rules_ to this sort of business; if a shinobi didn't report back to their village within three months of their return date, which they hadn't, an investigation would be launched.

In the first search, two teams of jounin-lead chuunin had scoured the reported area of the mission: the southern ports and Nagi Island with intense scrutiny around Sachiko Village. They questioned Mayor Hano Sakiko and her wife and learned the team had planned to get themselves kidnapped to gain firsthand account of these kidnappers and what they wanted. The Mayor had been against the plan and she couldn't stop them.

Then three days later, they were gone, and she hadn't seen or heard from any of them since.

Tsunade scowled, wondering how the team leader even allowed a plan like this. Allowing the entire team to get captured by enemy forces for infiltration purposes? At least one of them should've stayed out of the infiltration team and followed at a distance so there could be an outside source that watched the proceedings and call backup if needed.

But she would admit getting caught by those who ran the Coliseum made sense. Traffickers employed by the establishment were best at disappearing and staying hidden when they didn't want to be found. So those teams kept looking, and any team sent around the area were encouraged to keep an eye out for anything strange. But nothing turned up.

After a month, Inuzuka Kiba, Akamaru, Aburame Shino, and Sakura were marked MIA with a Presumed Deceased status but were still kept on the casual watch list.

And when six months came around the corner and there was no sign for Team Eight for miles and miles after their leader had turned up empty handed, their files were released to the public and every single person who'd seen it had known they were dead.

 _'But apparently,'_  Tsunade thought as she unfolded her arms to prop a hand on her hip, _'this team just can't run out of luck.'_

She strode into the room, Ibiki close behind.

"So," she started as she glanced at the teens at the table. Shino didn't move his head at her entrance but she was sure his eye had tracked her the moment she'd made herself known. Kiba sighed and slumped back, pulling his lips up in a tired smile that was most definitely forced as Akamaru straightened into a rigid posture. Sakura planted her hand on the table and turned so her left side faced the back of the chair. "Yuuhi Kurenai's Team Eight."

They nodded their heads in unison and said nothing. Tsunade cocked a brow.

"You've all been gone a long time. My name is Senju Tsunade, your Godaime Hokage. I trust you understand your situation and the process it will take to fully integrate you back into active forces." She paused. "That is, if you still want to participate as active forces. If you so choose, you may be re-assigned as in-village employees or resign your shinobi status all together to continue your lives as civilians. There will be no shame in that decision." Hazel eyes flickered to the identical bands on Kiba's forearms. "It may be expected due to the nature of your disappearance."

"There's no need for that, Godaime-sama," Sakura said, and Tsunade took a moment to take in the girl's appearance. Prisoner identification on her right arm, her left ending at the elbow, a tattoo along her cheekbone that looks like something she'd both seen once before and was altogether unfamiliar. Her short hair left the view of the mouse brand on her neck and Tsunade had to applaud their desire to continue their service after all of  _that_. "We'll be available as able-bodied shinobi at your earliest convenience."

That got two raised, incredulous brows from Ibiki.

Tsunade glanced at the two boys on the other side of the table. "She speaks for the rest of you?"

"Yes, Godaime-sama," they chorused. She pursed her lips.

For all she knew, this could be a front. After a month and a half at the godforsaken Coliseum and a year and a half locked away by one of Konoha's worst enemies, they should've come back one of two ways: broken and empty with a thousand yard stare, or nervous and flinching and unsteady from the months they hadn't seen the sun.

But this team was nothing like that. This green nosed, inexperienced, barely chuunin team should've come back  _quaking_. But Shino was expressionless. Sakura was cold. Kiba was bored out of his mind.

Shino shifted his arm, his coat sleeve shifting up and exposing the pale white lines that mottled all the skin around the brown bands that marked him.

Her eyes narrowed. "Proceed, Morino."

"The vetting process will be finished within the week, and until then you'll be kept in a holding cell," he informed the room. "After that you may return to your homes. Another week, and once you pass physical examinations, you'll be cleared to have your names back on the active duty roster. Any problems with that arrangement?"

Kiba smiled slightly. "Nah," he said, and his eyes lit with a touch of morbid humor. "We're kinda used ta' tradin' one cell for another."

Ibiki snorted as he made a few notes on the top of the case file, very clearly dismissing the chunnin as any sort of threat. But Tsunade didn't cast her gaze away, not for a second, and watched the humor leak from Kiba's eyes as they were overshadowed by that Inuzuka wildness—something she'd seen in the members of the clan more often than not.

Perhaps she was wrong, then. Shinobi didn't come back from torture like that one of two ways, rather, there were three.

Broken and empty with a thousand yard stare. Nervous and flinching and unsteady because the months they hadn't seen the sun.

Or they came back not thinking to live, but to survive.

As she and Ibiki left the cell, she stopped in the doorway and took one last look into the room. Kiba yawned, Shino drummed his fingers against the table, Sakura shifted back so her left side was exposed again, and Akamaru lowered his chin back onto Sakura's lap.

All of their eyes were still on her.

"Welcome back to Konoha, Team Eight," she said. She took hold of the handle and wondered how from everything she'd ever heard about them, no one said they'd be like  _this_. "Let's hope you don't get yourselves into anymore trouble this time around."

The door shut with a  _clang_.

:: ::

Izumo blinked down at a page in the southern gate sign in book, dated about a week ago during the graveyard shift. He blinked again. And again. Then pulled the book closer to his face and re-read the entry ten more times before Kotetsu took notice and looked up from the documents he was proofreading.

"What, the newbies filled out the form wrong?" he asked. He turned back to his paper for a few seconds, but the lack of a response had his head twisting back to his partner. Izumo still stared at the same page, rubbed his eyes, and pulled the book close then far, and then he practically slumped in his seat. "... Izumo?"

"This entry, it's... uh, I don't know how true this is, but..."

"Oh come on, I'm on the edge of my seat."

"About a gate entry?" a new voice inquires. Familiar. Quiet. Older. Younger.  _Dead_. "Is this all you've been up to since we've been gone?"

Kotetsu had to give himself credit. He didn't even scream.

Izumo, on the other hand, had been leaning his chair back on two legs when he saw her, shrieked, and fell over in what must've been the funniest puddle of chuunin he'd seen all day.

But he didn't laugh. Because his heart was pounding a mile a minute as he looked into a face he hadn't seen in so long, a face shadowed by the sun as a pair of green eyes met his. They were the same, but not—the same chill around the iris and darker than he last saw, but they were lighter, too. Burdened, but alive.  _Alive_.

"Sakura?" he whispered. And when the corner of her lips quirk, some of the weight on Kotetsu's shoulders fell off as he jumped to his feet and knocked her side.

"What the hell, when did you get so tall?" he demanded. The top of his head barely reached the tip of her nose as she threw her right arm over his shoulders. "Fuck I actually gotta crane my neck to look up at you—how's the weather up there, by the way? Holy shit."

It wasn't just her height he noticed—it was really everything else. The kusari-fundo at her hip was obviously misused and neglected though he knew she would never willingly let her weapons get close to that state. The tattoo—man, there was really a tattoo on her face, wasn't there—was a blue that made her eyes look endless; but none of that could compare to her left arm.

A left arm she only had half of now, and an arm he desperately tried not to stare at.

Kotetsu held onto her forearm, afraid that if he let go she'd fade away like a memory. "Where have you been?"

"Koinobori Island for a month and a half," she answered. Her voice was deeper. "Then Kumo for the rest."

"Kumo got you?" he asked, a pinch in his voice as he sighed wearily. "How did you guys make it out?"

"We got lucky."

Izumo watched his partner's face crumple at the line, something he didn't understand no matter how much he would think on it later. But it hurt to see that wretched expression, and the last time it'd been there had been at the beginnings of Kotetsu's realization that Sakura and her team were gone.

He cleared his throat and glanced back down at the book. "Sakura-san, it says here you were signed in a week ago?"

Her gaze moved to him and her eyes were just as cold as they were when she left. "We've just been released from T&I after being vetted and cleared to be re-integrated into the village." She smiled slightly, politely. "I was passing by and thought I'd say hello."

"So what are you gonna do now?" Kotetsu questioned.

"Kiba and Shino are making their visits and I wanted to check up on my apartment, go through my things, see what I need to buy and if my funds have been safe." She tipped her head to the side. "Only if my apartment is still rented out under my name."

"I'll go with you," he volunteered immediately, and he looked at Izumo with those imploring eyes that Izumo waved off almost instantly.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll cover for you. But only this time because it's important," he sighed, but he regarded Sakura kindly. "It's nice to have you back."

She said nothing and offered that same smile before her and Kotetsu headed down the street. Slightly. Politely.

When she turned he saw a brand in the shape of a mouse on the back of her neck, old and scar white.

_'... Unlucky Eight, huh?'_

:: ::

The path Shino took to the Aburame Complex was one he followed mostly on muscle memory. Every now and then he'd see a stand he didn't recognize or advertisements he couldn't recall, and even once he passed a park he knew for sure hadn't been part of the district at least a year and a half ago.

But he reminded himself that half the village had been razed to the ground before they'd gone on that mission. Things were bound to be different.

Along in his musings he spotted a figure peering through a shop window, older with longer hair and a trusty bag of chips in their hands. And when that person turned at the deliberate sound Shino made with his next step, they nearly fumbled their snack bag and completely missed their mouth when they went to crunch on another chip.

"Shi-Shino?!"

"Good afternoon, Chouji," Shino greeted. His fellow year mate gaped at him like a fish gaped in air. "How have you been?"

"I—I—How have  _I_  been? How have  _you_ been?" Choji closed the gap between them and offered both a wide smile and a firm handshake. "I, well, we all thought you were..." he trailed off meaningfully.

"Ah, yes. I'd heard of the status my team and I were given, but it's in the process of being remedied as we speak." Shino tilted his head. "But I've been well enough. I'm not dead—though if I were, perhaps I would have more of a crick in my neck." And Chouji blinked, because that was kind of a long sentence for an Aburame and he just said a... joke? He'd never heard Shino tell a joke, like, ever. "I'm on my way to visit my father."

"Oh man, I almost forgot about Shibi-sama. After your team got declared MIA: Presumed Deceased, he didn't, um, take it well."

Shino frowned guiltily and the Akimichi quickly raised both hands and stammered nervously. "N-Not that it was your fault you disappeared or anything, er—"

"No, it's alright. I imagine he would have been... upset, at my absence. Do you happen to know if he's in?"

"I think so? He and Dad were talking over some things a few hours ago and he'd mentioned something about heading back home to finish a report for Hokage-sama."

"Hm. Thank you."

Chouji couldn't help but feel his surprise climb up a few notches. They didn't really know each other well and probably only talked because of their statuses as heirs to noble clans. He wouldn't call them friends, acquaintances maybe, but they had different interests, different views, were kids with not enough in common to even sit in the same sandbox. Pleasantries were always the end of their conversations, so exchanging more than two sentences with each other was…  _something_.

"I'll be on my way, then." Shino tipped his head, and it was odd to see the bottom half of his face with no high collar to obscure it. "I'll see you later?"

Chouji beamed. "Yeah! I'll see you around."

When Shino quirked a small smile of his own and headed to his family's complex, Chouji immediately turned towards the Nara Compound.

He's  _got_ to tell Shikamaru about this.

:: ::

Shino stepped into an empty house.

For the first time in so long, he allowed all his kikai to pour from his body and re-familiarize themselves with the house as he walked into the living room.

The couches were in different places and the table that used to be behind the longest one was not pushed up against the wall with the window. The vase that always had some sort of red flower that never dried had slightly wilting statices drooping off the sides. The kitchen was the same with its dark brown cupboards and white granite countertops, but the pots that used to hang on the left wall had been moved to the right and the green towels that hung on the oven handle were gray.

He unzipped his jacket and placed it over one of the chairs at the dining table. Which used to be a reddish brown cherrywood but was now replaced with some darker color. Walnut? Brown mahogany? It looked a bit like the desk back in C's office and that for sure was oak with an espresso wood stain, and he only knew that much because he'd spent hours listening to R's whining about how C was so nitpicky about his desks...

Shino pulled down the long sleeves of his black turtleneck and turned his gaze to the beams on the ceiling. At least those hadn't changed, still overrun by the insect colonies he used to count when he was younger even if they seemed to have flourished under his father's care. Reds and greens and oranges and yellows dot and converge around the wood like moving decor, and he begrudgingly admitted that even Kumo couldn't have shown a grander display of the like.

He stood below the beam with the collection of Greta Oto and extended his hand.

One of the butterflies came to land on his finger.

"You colony has nearly tripled. It seems you've been doing well."

Then, there was a shift. He paused.

"I thought it would make you happy to see them grow," a new voice said, soft and wavering and broken, but doused in a hopeful tone Shino didn't miss. He let the insect flutter back up to its perch. "Your butterflies. They were all I had left of you."

Shino turned.

His father stood at the entrance of the dining room, the front door behind him open and a trail of dirt leading up to the soles of his sandals. He was breathing quicker than normal, taking in short puffs of air like he'd come running from the other side of the village.

Shibi took one, hesitant step forward. When his son didn't disappear from his eyes—didn't disappear like all the times he did in his nightmares—he took one more step, then another, and another, until he was within arms' reach and held his son's face in his hands.

And Shibi only stared for a moment. His son was warm. Alive. Taller. His hair was so much longer that it's all tied up in a bun. His jawline was more defined. His glasses were the same, but it was no secret that they shielded an eye more different than anything else that could have changed about them.

His son was back.

And Shibi already knew he'd never be the same boy that left a year and a half ago.

"Thank you for taking care of them," Shino said in a voice that sounded too different to his ears.

"Of course." Shibi's eyes welled with tears as he brought his son into his arms and cried, silent and unrelenting.

He didn't notice that Shino was tense all the while.

And he doesn't notice that even when the arms wrap around him to return the embrace, the boy's face didn't change save for the slight softening of his brow.

(Team Eight was forged in prisons and permanence as a pack that would always survive.)

((A small part of Shino would always hate himself for never being able to acknowledge his father as part of his pack.))

:: ::

Kiba tucked his hands in his jacket pockets and glanced up at Konoha's skies. They were so... blue. Kind of unnaturally blue. Maybe it was from being in Kumo for so long and being accustomed to the whites and pales and grays of their sky that he'd forgotten the colors of his own village, but he wouldn't blame himself for the loss of memory.

Konoha didn't hold a special place in his heart like Kumo. Konoha might have raised him and never taken him prisoner, but they'd done far worse than tattoos and shackles could ever bring.

Akamaru barked, and Kiba huffed. "Yeah," he said. "'Course the clouds're better over there. If they weren't, why would they be named after them?"

At the clatter of opening doors, they lower their heads away from the sky. Students flooded out the Academy for the day, shouting and shoving each other as they ran. Kiba pushed himself off the tree he'd propped himself against and strode past the students, Akamaru stalking behind him like a calculated shadow.

When he reached one of the classrooms, he leaned against the door jamb and watched the student frowning in front of Iruka's desk.

"So if i just show my work on the next quiz—"

"You'll get full credit," Iruka smiled. But it was short-lived when it wobbled and fell and he sighed at the puppy dog eyes his student gave him. Kiba almost laughed. "Okay, how about this? I'll let you off the hook this time, but you better show your work next assignment or all those points are coming off!"

The kid grinned and ran towards the door. "Thanks, Iruka-sensei!" She barely managed to pull herself back from running straight into Kiba and Akamaru. "'Scuse me. Also, your dog's really cool!"

Akamaru's tail wagged and Kiba playfully nudged his head and leaned back into the hall to call out to her. "Hey! If you tell 'im stuff like that he'll get a stuffy head!" He smiled at her giggling and went back into the classroom.

Iruka had moved, standing just to the side of his desk with wide, disbelieving eyes. An ashen hue drew out the color of his face and he said nothing, a knuckle-white grip on the edge of wood.

Akamaru plowed forward, the great hulking mass he was, and reared up to plant his forelimbs on Iruka's shoulders as he leaned into him with an enthused bark. Iruka stumbled a bit at the weight, and after a moment his shocked mask fell away into delight. He grinned and stretched an arm to pat Akamaru's head.

Kiba hopped up on the corner of the desk. "Iruka-sensei, you look old!"

Iruka laughed. A real one from deep in his belly that burst past his throat and nearly brought tears to his eyes. "Just the stress. Can't get enough of it, it seems."

One look at Kiba's fanged grin made so many emotions well up at the same time that he didn't know what to do with them. Grief. Loss. Happiness.  _Relief_. His student was back, whole, maybe a smidge taller and his hair even unruly—and somehow, he was almost a whole other person without the Inuzuka red on his face. His jacket wasn't that signature gray with the fur-lined hood, but a thinner black with the sleeves pushed up to the elbows to show the brown bands that wrapped his forearms.

But once his gaze landed on the seal paper dangling from his ears, he recognized them for what they were, and worried.

And Kiba was having none of it.

"It happened 'bout a year ago," he said with a dismissive wave. "An accident. No one's fault. And I fixed it up just fine so it's like it didn't even happen."

"... A year, huh."

And it felt so, so long ago.

"Yeah, when we were in prison."

"Prison?!"

"Ha, yeah. There's a lot ta' catch up on, I guess." Kiba shrugs. "You got time?"

At the mention of prison, Iruka had been watching his face very carefully. Prison in an established enemy country could have only brought on endless hours of torture and suffering. It would've left open wounds on the mind and a thoroughly broken will, but Iruka saw none of that. A cloudiness hadn't swarmed his eyes. A tenseness didn't grab hold of his muscles.

Instead, the word spilled off his tongue as if he spoke of work or an errand despite the veiled darkness in his eyes that lurked even from the moment before he stepped foot in the classroom. It was a bit too...  _steady_ for Iruka's liking, but maybe that was the change.

No broken mind. No weary will.

Just the price of a jaded shinobi.

"Of course," Iruka answered. "But I'm a little hungry. Why don't we talk at the takoyaki stand? My treat."

"Takoyaki? Hell yeah!"

Six sealing books lay strewn on Iruka's classroom desk.

_The Block Theory, Intermediates of Multi-layer Seals, Fundamentals of Stacked Linkages, The Evens Algorithm, Through Another Ink Medium, Applications of the Curved and Pointed End._

(Later, Iruka would write a note to remind himself to return them to the library. He wouldn't need to check them out again.)

:: ::

Kotetsu's arms were filled with grocery bags while a bundle of new clothes dangled from Sakura's right hand to replace the ones she knew she'd outgrown. They hung around the front off the landlord as he dug through his horribly disorganized drawers as he spoke as much as he could in as little breaths as possible.

"As you know, young miss, shinobi live under different rules for paying rent due to the likes of your missions. If they're off on long term ones it's expected for payment to come through automatic pay mailed in by bank clerks, for associates to come in to complete it for you, or for said shinobi to pay many months in advance should they know how long they'd be gone." He threw a stack of wrinkled paper over his shoulder and onto the floor, completely ignoring Kotetsu's raised brow. "You paid three months in advance and you were gone—good lord, a year and a half? Well of course there's circumstantial things that come up on your missions, whatever they may be, that may prevent you from returning. I just about terminated your lease before a nice fellow came in to pay off your monthly rent anonymously. How lucky!"

"Anonymously?" Sakura inquired. Her eyes flashed dangerously.

The landlord pulled out his drawer and simply emptied all the contents onto the floor. She didn't blink, and Kotetsu dropped his face into the grocery bags and sighed. "Yes, well, I'd asked for at least a pen name to sign off where the payments are coming from.  _Wisteria_ , he said, though I couldn't tell you why he'd given such an odd name, but I gave up on trying to understand you shinobi long ago." He dumped a second drawer out onto the floor. "But as long as the rent gets paid I have no complaints. The way he pays, well, it's the same way your neighbor's is! That boy up there has been gone nearly as long as you and he's lucky enough to have the late Sandaime-sama's funds keeping his lease in accordance with his will, may his soul rest in peace."

Now  _that_ was news. Sarutobi Hiruzen was paying off Naruto's rent? How thoughtful.

"Aha!" The landlord finally dug up a set of crinkled sheets he passed over to Sakura and she took it easily, ignoring the lasting gaze on her left side. "Here you are, young miss. Records and receipts of the payments made under your name and a form of transfer back to your own funds. Still have your key? I'm sure I have a spare for you somewhere around here..."

"Thank you, but I still have it," she answered as she glanced at the mess on the ground. "Have a nice rest of your day, sir."

"Yes, yes, you as well, dear. Just be sure to turn in those forms by the end of the week," the landlord called out to them as they leave the office.

Kotetsu followed Sakura up the stairs to her apartment. "That guy's... fun."

"His apartments work with the orphanage and house any that gain shinobi status. He may be a bit screw loose, but he does enough good work." She placed a hand on the front of her door and flashed her chakra to open it.

"Neat trick."

"Better security than keys," she shrugged and pushed through. As Kotetsu entered after her and scruffed his sandals against the doormat, he turned a curious eye around the apartment.

Not gonna lie, it was pretty shitty. An uneven paint job, chipped doorways, plastic chairs and tables—

But, someone's been visiting enough to make sure dust didn't collect and kept the place as decent as it could get.

Kotetsu set the groceries on the cheap collapsible table as Sakura went to leave her clothes in the room down the hall. A quick look around the kitchen and down the hall threw him off. The whole place was... impersonal. Small, plain. Somehow matching Sakura and her moments of aloofness but jarring against the softness he knew she was capable of.

There was no dirt, no charm, no color.

When she returned, those leather pauldrons that hugged her shoulders and the kunai pouch around her thigh was absent as well as the gear around her forearm.

Thick dark bands wound twice around the wrist and once near the elbow. He didn't ask about them.

But Sakura must have noticed something, because as she started to store the groceries, she spoke. "Catatumbo Penitentiary's hospitality," she explained. "You had to distinguish your prisoners somehow and this was the easiest."

"It's permanent?"

"Mm."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." She shut the fridge with a light tap and met his eyes over her shoulder. "It doesn't bother me."

That was one of the things he didn't understand.

 _Why_ doesn't that bother her?

He frowned and glanced at her left arm, thinking to how many looks they'd gotten, mostly from civilians, as he accompanied her on her shopping trip and her stop at the bank. And she'd taken it all in stride—face blank, actions relaxed, eyes unreadable.

Suddenly she raised her left arm, cleanly cut off at the elbow.

"Catatumbo didn't do this, if you were curious." Oh. "It was my own fault. I'd gotten..." Her lips quirked into a humorless smile as she searched for the right word, "careless." With all her food items now properly stored, she moved back down the hall, Kotetsu trailing after. "Is there anything else you want to do today? I have nothing else to do until a couple hours from now."

She entered her room and he stopped at the entrance, the sight that greeted him catching him by surprise; the floor was covered in old cushions and saggy beanbags, all mismatched and worn and a complete clash against the emptiness of the rest of the apartment.

 _'Guess I spoke too soon,'_  Kotetsu thought.

Behind her bed hung four handwritten scrolls with phrases he didn't recognize.

Sakura ripped down the leftmost one, rolled it up, and stored it in one of the drawers at her desk.

Kotetsu didn't ask about this one either.

And she didn't give him an answer.

:: ::

Hana walked into the house only to freeze at the sight of a huge white dog laying on the floor as its tail lazily brushed the ground and its head faced away from the door. But as the Haimaru burst in from behind her with inquiring growls and demands, the foreign dog turned to them and got up to its feet.

The dog was fucking enormous. Bigger than any of the Haimaru or Kuromaru.

But its face. Its vaguely familiar scent. It's...

"Aka... maru?"

Akamaru gave a semblance of a smile and barked.

Hana's body moved before her mind could catch up and when it did she was in the midst of diving for the dog and enveloping him in a hug. Once the scent recognition registered, the Haimaru piled atop them, nosing their baby pack dog's fur and lapping at his face. Akamaru barked and rolled onto his side, his ears flopping back like a halo—but he didn't loll out his tongue.

That wasn't new, though, he hadn't lolled out his tongue for any of them to see since a little after Team Eight became Team Eight, and it was probably more of a personality quirk than anything, so Hana kept her questions to herself. As she hoisted herself up to dismantle her limbs from the heap of fur, her eyes landed on Akamaru's splayed ears.

She blinked.

Tattoos were uncommon in Konoha, but not so much for the Inuzuka. There were of course the red marks on their cheeks that signified a coming of age in the clan, and if they so chose, they could have other tattoos along their body normally done in a traditional Inuzuka red.

Their canine companions usually opted out of the process.

Except for Akamaru, it seemed.

The tattoos on his left ear had to be symbolics of his team. The bug she guessed was Shino and the cherry blossom Sakura, but the seal-covered senbon... was that meant to be Kiba? How? She didn't think a senbon was his weapon of choice and she wasn't well-read enough in seal work to even begin to decipher the meaning in Akamaru's ears.

But the design on the right...

Hana shot to a crouch. Wait, Kiba—

"Aw, why the hell're you back so early? We were gonna do, like, a surprise reveal and everything!" Five heads snapped up towards the stairs and to Kiba who walked down them as he toweled his hair dry. "I was gonna blow up some balloons, maybe jump out at you from behind a corner, then—ACK!"

The towel flopped over his head and eyes as Hana barreled into him, her shoulder catching his stomach when she hefted him into the air and spun him around. Her heart hammered in her throat and her head dizzied—Kiba, her stupid baby brother she thought she lost to blades and jutsu and left dead in a nameless field was  _whining_ in her arms the same dumb way she was so used to hearing.

She felt his skin and bones and almost burst into tears on the spot.

Kiba was back. He was home. And his body wasn't in a scroll meant to be prepared for burial.

"What the hell's goin' on in here?!"

Hana's spinning went into a grinding halt, a body still over her shoulder.

Tsume tapped her foot in the entryway of their house. A deep frown pulled her lips down and Kuromaru silently observed the scene from her side. Hana dropped her brother onto his feet and turned towards the front of the house as he yanked the towel off his head.

He met his mother's wide eyes.

And watched as she curled a few fingers in front of her. " _Kai_."

Kiba's brows furrowed. "Mom—"

"Don't come any closer," she growled. Kiba held up both hands, both palms facing outward. His face drew itself a careful blank and Akamaru slunk onto his feet, silent and careful as he prepared to lunge. "I don't know what fucking  _game_ you're playing here—"

"Tsume," Kuromaru warned.

"No, I'm not falling for this again—"

"Mom." Hana inched her way in front of her brother. "It's him."

"It's not," Tsume denied vehemently. "I already went through this once on the field from that genjutsu that fucking Iwa-nin thought they could pull on me, but no." Kuromaru kept a paw crossed over her calf to at least hinder her if she decided to run a warpath, and he studied Kiba's face from behind Hana's bulk.

"Step away and I'll deal with him."

"I  _won't_."

There wasn't a sniff of panic in his stance as he continued to stand there, arms outstretched and features calm. Taller, broader, cheeks bare of red paint. He simply observed the confrontation with shadowed eyes that held a considering light and when that gaze flickered to meet Kuromaru's he flashed his fangs, and Kuromaru understood.

It was him. Older, wilder, but undoubtedly him.

Kiba looked back to face his mother.

"When you first introduced me to Akamaru, we didn't like each other that much. He peed on my sandals like a dumb lil' punk," he started as he shouldered the gazes of his mother, his sister, and all the ninken. "I think I was like seven or somethin' when you met Sakura for the first time. On the roof of that arcade? You chased us 'cause you thought we were ditchin'."

Tsume's hands begun to quiver.

"Uh... right in the beginnin' of us bein' genin, I totally punched a mirror and you got so mad you made me clean the whole kitchen. You know how long it took to pull the oven back, scrub it all down, then push it back? Akamaru had a grease stain on his forehead for a week!"

"W-Was that what it was?" Hana questioned uncertainly, eyes never leaving Tsume's frozen form.

"Yeah, we ended up having to use Shino's kikai to eat the stain off. Real A+ service by the way. Would recommend." The humorous lilt to his tone dropped off and his hands are still in the air, fingers splayed and above his head. "Sorry it took us so long to find our way back, Ma. We got kinda lost along the way."

It was  _that_ that broke the dam around Tsume's heart. Because Kiba hadn't called her Ma since he was six and chubby-cheeked ready for his first day at the Academy. And it was that same day that he'd come back in the afternoon, disgruntled that they didn't learn any 'real' shinobi stuff and wouldn't for a long time. At dinner he'd called her mom and she felt a small pang in her chest that six year old Kiba made the same decision all kids eventually made: that it was time to act like you're all grown up.

Tsume's hand shot past Hana and grabbed the front of Kiba's shirt to drag him forward into her arms and  _squeezed_.

Hana sagged in boneless relief and the  _click click click_  of nails on wood filled the house as five grown nin-dogs bounded around them.

Kiba's back.

And she didn't want to let go.

:: ::

"I intend to pay a visit to Aoba-sensei, if you don't mind," Shino said from his spot at the dinner table. He and his father had been talking for the better part of an hour with him outlining his experiences at the Coliseum and eventually Catatumbo. He never mentioned Oosuna Nezumi or any of their Kumo comrades by name or what they'd done, never spoke of the boat towards Lightning or the hours spent wrist-deep in surgeries under bright yellow lights, never once brought up the way Kumo treated them the way villages ought to treat their own shinobi.

As if he knew what that felt like.

"Aoba," Shibi repeated, more to himself as he rifled through his memory for a name. "Ah, yes, the one from the Intelligence Division."

"If he's kept his same shift from a year and a half ago, then it should be ending fairly soon." Shino slipped off the chair and headed towards the door as he slid on his green jacket. He bent to pick up his sandals. "I shouldn't be too long, either. It's..." He trailed off. "Is it almost seven now?"

Shibi glanced at the clock. "It's... only three."

"Hm." He'd have to re-adjust to the time zone changes soon. "Then I should return well before nightfall."

He opened the front door to Sakura standing at the entrance, and Shibi unconsciously sat straighter.

She was quite tall and not quite whole, but one thing that surprised him the most at her appearance was that none of his kikai had come to alert him of the visitor. Of course she has been here before and had already been deigned as a non-threat due to her being on his son's team, but it was strict protocol to alert him of all arrivals to the clan complex.

And he hadn't noticed her. Not her chakra, not her presence.

Though Shino  _had._ And by the expectant look on her face, he'd known she was coming.

"Good afternoon, Shibi-sama," she greeted with a polite dip. He nodded her way.

"Sakura-san. I am pleased to see your safe return."

 _'Pleased might not be the right word for it,'_  Shibi thought guiltily as her gaze moved back to his son. He certainly held no desire for any harm to come to Shino's teammates, but there would always be that small part of him that blamed them for why Shino had changed so much. For better or for worse, he had yet to decide.

But he spied the genuine smile on Shino's lips and the way both he and Sakura eased in each other's bubbles.

The door shut, and Shibi sighed.

:: ::

"Yamashiro!" someone called, and Aoba looked up from the papers he was organizing at the filing cabinet. "Hurry up and scram! You're getting picked up from school!"

The newbies in the division glanced up at the jibe, but quickly resumed their work with a shrug or shake of their head. Whatever that was about was none of their business.

The ones who'd been a part of the department for the better of at least two years, however, let those words sink in before rolling their chairs to get a better peek at Aoba, peering as his expression blanked before he jumped up from his own seat—nearly tripping over a leg in the process, and ran out of his station.

His colleagues watched on as he passed the check-in post and subsequently forgetting to punch out his time card. But the division associate closest to it simply pushes their chair back and processed his card for him, unconcerned, especially after an elated exclamation resounded on the floor.

"Um, is there something up with Yamashiro-senpai?" Fumio, a chuunin who started working there almost a full month ago whispered as he leaned around his desk.

"Means either his old student or one of his friends came to see him. Or both," Kameko, a senior member, whispered back. "Kids, the both of them. Thought we lost them about a year and a half ago."

"Mission gone wrong?"

"What other way do we go?"

Kameko vaguely remembered the days Aoba came into work after his lunch break with the food he'd taken untouched. Sometimes he'd get other coworkers to take it off his hands, laughing about how he wasn't hungry or he'd gotten too much to eat.

She knew better, though. The way he stopped talking about that pink girl and his Aburame student, and they way she never glimpsed them around anymore.

And by the time she'd gotten around to finding out what really happened to them through their published status, she'd grimaced before she'd gone about the rest of their day.

There was a reason shinobi retired by thirty. Because by then, you'd either be dead or dying, and bright-eyed youths that perished on the field only ever eventually became a statistic.

:: ::

Just outside the doors of the Intelligence Building, Aoba let out a disbelieving laugh as he greeted Sakura and Shino with a quick hug each.

"When did you get back?"

"A week ago, though we've just finished the vetting process and were allowed back into the village," Shino answered. He smiled at the man's joy; real and tangible and something for them.

It warmed him.

"Sorry we're late," Sakura apologized, a bit of a joking lilt to her lips. "There were more stops in the road back than we anticipated."

Aoba laughed again, though it strained a little more against his throat. "Those stops can be a little tricky sometimes, but—what matters is that you came back," he said. His shoulders slump in relief and he breathed out. "Safe and sound."

They ambled down one of the roads away from the Intelligence Building, a teen on either side of the jounin as they chatted amongst themselves. Or, rather, it was Aoba's bundle of nerves that had him rambling about random things they'd missed when they were gone.

"—but, ah, there's another tournament in a couple weeks that you guys should see. Um, hopefully you'll stay in Konoha longer this time, right?" he joked. "A-Anyway, the—"

He missed the way Shino and Sakura exchanged glances.

:: ::

Sakura, Kiba, Shino, and Akamaru stood under the gleam of a streetlight an hour or so after evening fell. They kept no visible weapons on their persons and stared down the apartment complex with the dark red doors.

The first apartment they'd visited had been empty—that or the person they visited didn't answer the door knowing it'd be them. And if the latter were really the case, then  _ouch_. The thought stung more than they cared to admit but it wouldn't have been unexpected. Not everyone could've been happy with the stint they'd pulled.

Kiba yawned. "Fuck. It's like, three in the morning over there."

"Quickest way to get over travel lag is to stay up at least thirty six hours and wake up when you need to," Sakura said. She met the piercing glare Shino aimed her way.

"That's not healthy."

"But it's quick."

"At least the light's on up there, huh," Kiba murmured. The window he searched out had a faint curtained glow, and it was definitely the right unit based on the address he managed to snatch from a few well-placed questions from other shinobi. "Someone's gotta be home or they're drainin' their energy bill. Wasteful."

Akamaru woofed a question.

"Uh... I think he'd be happy to see us?" He looked to his friends. "I dunno. Whattya' guys think?"

"If he doesn't want to see us, fine. Why? It won't be our concern anymore."

"Damn. Cold-blooded."

"A year and a half is a long time. Especially when you learn to live without someone." Kiba started the short walk to the complex while Sakura brought up the rear, and Shino continued to speak from his position between them. Akamaru trailed along the left side of the formation. "If it would be easier for us to keep out of his life, I would not fault him. We bring too much trouble wherever we go."

The blunt admission wasn't a new one—they all understood it, they all took it to heart.

Team Eight was a lot of things and _a problem_  was among the highest on the list; their curiosity led them to Danzo, their defiance unleashed Sai, their circumstance stuck them in the Coliseum, and their attachment brought trouble to everyone in Kumo who ever gave them the time of day.

 _'We weren't worth goin' behind the Raikage's back,'_  was the passing thought through Kiba's head as they ascended the steps to the third floor.  _'Not worth lettin' us go. Not worth givin' us another chance.'_

Door number three-oh-five was identical to the other lines of doors, clean and crisp without a chip in the paint. Akamaru glanced up nervously at the rest of his pack as he waited by the railing, body angled to charge to whoever answered the door. Shino's kikai shifted beneath his skin and Sakura's hand laid at the hilt of the katana on her hip.

Kiba raised a hand and knocked.

A few seconds later, the door opened.

Half a second after that, it shut in their faces with a resounding  _SMACK_.

"Um." Kiba scratched the back of his head, disappointment bounding around his stomach. "I guess it could've been worse."

:: ::

Tenzo's hands shook as sweat pooled into his palms and onto the metal door knob and he pressed his forehead against the wood. What was that. Who were they. They couldn't—no. They'd been dead for over a year. The search parties yielded nothing and he tried and tried, by god he tried to put his mind to rest. He tried to get past those sleepless nights. He tried to get past that suffocating guilt.

He tried to accept it. He couldn't.

And now they were knocking at his door? Ghosts didn't knock. Or was he hallucinating? Or—

Tenzo stood back straight and yanked the door back. No one was there—

He stepped out of his apartment, bare feet against the concrete walkway as he leaned over the railing and spotted them walking down the stairs, talking quietly amongst themselves. Sakura looked up first—she always did—and he tossed himself over the rail and directly in their path. He probably looked half mad to them the way he took the time to stare down each and every one of them, how he gawked at how different they were and just how much they hadn't changed.

"I'm sorry," he told them. "About everything. I didn't..."

Kiba, who'd positioned himself in front of the group to take the brunt of a first blow, lowered his fists and retracted his sharp nails. To the side, Akamaru's lips dropped back over sharp teeth. Behind him, Shino tucked his kunai back into his sleeve and Sakura relinquished her hold on her katana.

"Why are you apologizin'?" Kiba asked, and when Tenzo looked back to his face he noted the genuine confusion in his eyes.

"You—Your mission, everyone thought you were dead and I-I—"

"Being gone as long as we were, there is no one to blame but ourselves," Shino said. And Tenzo held the dull throb in his chest because he knew they wouldn't lie about that. The teen's tone quieted. "You look well, Tenzo-san. I hope we haven't disturbed you."

"Disturbed...?" The ex-ROOT huffed a short laugh as he pressed his palms to his eyes. All that time away, all that time who-knows-where suffering who-knows-what and they were worried about bothering  _him_.

He sniffed and dropped his hands. Shino's face drew into its usual blankness, Kiba watched on with sharp eyes, and Sakura stood at both their shoulders a head taller at the very least.

They were weary. Cold. Carried too much on shoulders not meant to carry the weight of the world.

Just like the old Team Eight.

Tenzo offered a wobbly smile. "Would you all like to come in for some tea?"

It was silent the trip back up the stairs and to door three-oh-five left cracked open from Tenzo's haste. The promise of tea was an attractive prospect of a quiet night filled with stories told thousands of times by that point full of cut details and redacted names.

But.

As they stepped inside the apartment, someone was standing a few paces away from the door. Waiting.

Sakura steeled her nerves and bobbed her head once when her friends couldn't bring themselves to form their words. "Sensei."

Red eyes were blown wide through her curtain of dark, damp hair. She was dressed in a pair of loose pajama bottoms and what looked to be one of Tenzo's shirts as her hands froze half outstretched before her.

Complete silence reigned for what felt like an eternity.

Then Kurenai burst into tears.

:: ::

There was a body in the middle of the corridor.

Wounds weeping, armor cracked, curled in on itself into a loose ball as their consciousness paddled in and out of awareness. Every so often someone would pass through the hallway, side-stepping the red puddles and not sparing a single glance at the limbs bent the way they weren't supposed to.

_-You are not comrades. You deserve this punishment. You have failed your mission.-_

The body can't help but tense when a pair of feet walk too close to their face. They were simply a pawn, but they'd let the kunai cut too deep. They only needed to complete simple tasks, but they had failed this one because they'd let themselves be too swayed by emotion. By feeling.

"They are not comrades," they whispered, ripping the blood dripping from the corner of their mouth. "I deserve this punishment. I have failed my mission."

_-You are a tool.-_

"I am a tool."

_-You are a pawn.-_

"I am a pawn."

Another pair of feet flicker in the peripheral and their muscles involuntarily run taut beneath pale skin. Closer, closer, closer, until the blurred sight of sandals stopped just short of a particular spit-up of blood and mucus and phlegm.

A gloved hand slipped beneath their head and tilted it up. Swimming vision, dark halls, bright lights, then the shadowed image of a Monkey mask—blank, stoic, porcelain.

"Lion," Monkey spoke. "You are reaching completion of your Cognitive Re-evaluation. What have you learned in this opportunity Danzo-sama has extended for you?"

Lion held no hesitation.

"I have failed my mission. I deserve this punishment. There is no room for error. Should there ever be another instance where I have failed my mission, there will be no place for me here; I will dispose of myself properly."

Monkey let go of their face and stood, ignoring the sound of bone clattering against ground. "Collect yourself and report to Danzo-sama within twenty-four hours. Another mission will be assigned to you."

"Order received. Compliance understood."

Monkey didn't linger and simply continued down the hall as if they hadn't stopped in the first place.

They leave a broken body in the middle of the corridor.

_-You do not have a name.-_

:: ::

It was deep in the night when Kuromaru strode out for some air and spotted Akamaru alone on the porch, head tilted up towards the sky. The pup and his partner had come back quite late to an anxious Tsume sat in the dining room doing a poor job of pretending to play a card game while awaiting their return. And once they finally came back, they'd been more somber than when they left, more subdued and more quiet and the family had written it off as the year worn fatigue finally rearing its long face.

Sometimes Kuromaru wondered why humans tried to seek the easiest explanations rather than the honest ones.

"You should be resting up inside," Kuromaru said as he took a seat beside the white canine. "You've had a long day."

"I'll have a long day tomorrow," Akamaru replied softly. "And the day after that, and the day after that. Losing hours, gaining hours... it doesn't matter to me. I'll still wake. I'll still live the day."

"It would be easier on your mind."

"I think I'll need more sleep for something like that."

Kuromaru turned his head to peer closer at the pup's face.

Once the rush of the reunion had settled and they'd all made sure that he and Kiba wouldn't suddenly disappear again, Akamaru had slipped away from all the fuss and the noise to take some solace at first in the living room before slinking off outside where no one could see him. Hana had tried to follow and see if anything was wrong, but Kiba was quick to stop her.

 _"He just need to be alone sometimes,"_  he'd said.  _"He'll go to Shino or Sakura sometimes too, so if he's missing he's probably with one a' them."_

Which in itself was already so odd, because since when had the Inuzuka ninken ever chosen to spend so much time with people other than their partners? A clan member and their canine acted as a single functioning unit where one simply didn't exist without the other, and there was always this sort of bond that no one outside the clan could never truly emulate.

"You look like you have something to ask," Akamaru said. He turned away from the stars and met his elder's gaze, his own dark eyes piercing in the low light of the night sky.

"Not much of a question, really. More that I'm... concerned. I haven't seen you in a year and a half." Kuromaru stood on all four paws. "I don't expect to fully understand the hardships you've endured or the types of things you've had to witness in your time out in the field, but I want you to answer me honestly."

Akamaru inclined his head.

"You and Kiba... are you happy to be home?"

And this young pup, this ninken no older than fourteen summers who used to ditch Academy classes and loved tracking dirt into the house simply smiled, the corners of his jaw stretching just enough to show the whites of his teeth.

"Home," he repeated, "I never left it."

He pushed himself up to his feet, stretched, and trotted back inside the house.

"You should rest up, Kuro-sama," Akamaru woofed lowly from somewhere inside. And for the oddest reason, something in the pit of Kuromaru's stomach unsettled. "You've had a long day." 


	7. Earthenware

Sometimes there was a comfort in knowing that nothing changed.

Because when nothing changed, there was no need for adjustment or learning or trying to figure out what to  _do_ , and there was that awareness that there wasn't anything to do. That there wasn't anything to expect.

So a couple weeks after his return when Shino still tended to the colonies in the rafters and tended to keep to himself and studied up on medical texts in his free time, Shibi was relieved to see that at least  _that_ much had stayed the same. But once when he'd come home after a clan head meeting and spotted his son dissecting a few insects on the kitchen counter by the sink, the boy's sleeves had been pushed up to his elbows and his glasses were set somewhere off to the side.

"I'll only be another hour or so," Shino started, not turning away from whatever project he was working on this time. The tweezers in his left hand were polished and silver and the scalpel blade was flecked with exoskeleton. "A handful of kikai had reached the end of their lifespans and there's something I need to confirm about their anatomy."

When Shibi didn't reply, Shino glanced up at his father.

It took him a few moments to realize what he was staring at.

"... Ah." Shino set down his tools and tugged his sleeves back over his arms, covering up dark bands and the criss-cross of white scars that left no centimeter of his forearms untouched. "They're nothing."

"What are they from? The... scars?" Shibi's brow crinkled. He didn't have to ask about the tattoos, not when they were so glaringly made to be a symbol of captivity. "How—Who gave them to you?"

There was no way to tell him that the scars were products of his own two hands. That sitting in a cement block with nothing to do got to you, eventually, and it was a dangerous partner to the constant thrumming in the back of your head to get  _betterbetterbetter_ before you end up dead, so when he forced his fingers to burn with cutting chakra and sliced all the skin he could so that he could  _better_ learn to heal them, all he could think of was how one day he'd make himself into a medic that could rival the Senju Tsunade.

He couldn't tell Shibi that he saw nothing wrong with the way he practiced.

He couldn't tell his father that scars taught him more than Konoha could.

"It was my own fault," Shino settled with as he turned back to his dissection. "I'd gotten careless."

Shibi turned and opened one of the junk drawers nearby, hiding the small frown on his face. He knew that was the best answer he'd ever get and even the most subtle of prodding would only get him a muted reception in turn, so he stared down at the notepads and dulled pencils and cap pens, and thinks.

There were also a few other things that hadn't changed about Shino ever since his return. He still stayed in the company of his team whenever he was out in the village, still trained to exhaustion whenever he spent a day on the fields. He still walked in shadows and sat in corners, always said nothing was wrong when obviously something  _was_.

He still never comes home.

Shibi closed the drawer and pressed a few fingers against his forehead.

He should have expected that, at the very least. Shino had only stayed two nights at the clan complex before he'd taken a pack and a duffel to what he'd assumed was Sakura's apartment and had been staying over since. Every now and again he'd come by to pick up a book and tend to the colonies or stay for the odd dinner, but at the end of the day it was only a visit and his son would always be gone by the time the lamp lights flickered over the streets.

"I've begun to take up shifts at the hospital," Shino brought up once he started to clean the kitchen counter of his work. Shibi drifted out of his thoughts and eyed him curiously. "I took the entrance exam to become a part-time medic last week and they've deemed me suitable. Five hours a day, five days a week."

"Shifts? You were only taking lessons and shadowing before, were you not?"

Shino wiped down his tools with isopropanol before he fastened them back into his case. Kikai parts were separated into labeled vials and stored in their own sealed containers. "I've learned much in my time away from the village," he said, and Shibi's eyes flickered back to his sleeved arms. "The hospital believes so as well. I begin on Tuesday"

"Is there room for that in your schedule?" Shibi questioned hesitantly.

"Certainly. I train in the mornings until early afternoon, study until my shift at seven, and end my days at midnight."

"Your clan duties—"

"Will fit whenever I'm needed."

"Breaks—"

"Taken when necessary."

"Missions, then—"

"Will be taken into account as I'll move my days around accordingly." Shino stored his things in the brown pack sitting in one of the chairs. He slung the strap over one of his shoulders and headed towards the door, glasses back on his face, but stopped when a hand shot out to hold his upper arm.

"You don't have to overwork yourself," Shibi said, not quite looking at his son. He'd never been good at this sort of thing. "You've been gone for a while and I'm even more at a loss at what goes through your mind these days, but everything you're doing—it can't be healthy, can it?"

Shino glanced at the hand as it dropped from his arm, but he didn't turn around.

In Kumo he worked when C worked and that was nearly every single day. He would spend nine hour shifts that lasted well into the night, but there were days he spent sixteen hours on the floor or in the greenhouses experimenting on parasites and bacteria and anything else his kikai picked up but the other medics couldn't. Thirty-six hours was the longest he'd spent awake, and that was when he and C had been stuck in a string of surgeries for the members of a platoon nearly blasted away from a hidden explosive tag.

"I apologize for worrying you," he said. "But this is something I need to do." _To feel just a little bit normal again._

Shibi didn't understand.

"... Alright."

But he didn't stop Shino from slipping on his sandals, and Shibi's heart sank.

Night shifts meant an even lesser chance he'd come to dinner. A lesser chance of him being home at all.

_'Not that he'd ever been home much to begin with.'_

"Shino."

The door swung open and the teen looked over his shoulder. "Yes?"

"I love you," Shibi said. Shino raised one of the corners of his mouth into a soft, barely there smile half obscured by the jacket hood bunched up at the back of his neck. But his head turned back around too quickly, too soon, and he took a step out of the house.

"I love you, too."

The door closed behind him, and Shibi was left playing the same game of counting the days until his son was back home.

:: ::

Kotetsu braced his hands on his knees and tried to simultaneously cough and gasp for air.

Was he out of shape? Or was this a whole thing about getting old? Either way, neither of those options were appealing and he'd actually rather die than think any of those things were true. And he was  _twenty-five years old dammit_ , if his joints were giving out now he might as well cut his losses and retire. Make his new bed the couch in the living room. Have a bag of chips as his new best friend.

Peering up through the shadow of his sopping hair, he saw Sakura standing right where she initially stopped. Sweat dripped down her neck and her katana was firm in her grip, but otherwise it was like she wasn't remotely out of breath at all.

He didn't know whether to be impressed or to chuck a pebble at her head.

But he'd be the first to admit that he was the one to walk headfirst into this situation to begin with. After she'd finished getting her apartment together and fixed her weapons up into working order, he made it routine to check in every few days to make sure she was settling back in comfortably. Can't blame a guy, right? Your student was dead and the next day suddenly she wasn't and she came back a few inches taller to make up for the limb she lost.

Kotetsu winced as he straightened to a stand.  _Too soon._

"Let's take a break," he puffed, "before I die of dehydration."

Sakura flicked the blade back into its sheath at the back of her waist. On one hip was her polished kusari-fundo and on the other sat a brand new wakizashi with its hilt bound in red. "Sure."

He was glad she came back alright. No surface trauma as far as he could see, heavily improved on her skills, functioning.

And not to mention that all of those things together only made him even more worried about her.

As she picked up some sports drink and took a long swig, Kotetsu grabbed his own water bottle and flipped open the cap.

Sakura hadn't changed all that much. She lurked around shadows and could be found tucked away in corners of libraries or training half to death in the fields no one went to anymore. Once he found her ambling towards the Forest of Death and another time he found her striding out, unscathed. Every now and again he'd spot her from the corners of his eyes and when he turned there would be nothing, and more than a few times he'd see pink in a crowd.

Then he would blink. Then it would be gone.

Sometimes it made him think she was a ghost.

For over a year she'd become another name off the roster with a bright red KIA on the front of her file.  _Everyone_ thought Sakura, Aburame Shino, Inuzuka Kiba, and Akamaru were dead and Team Eight became another tragedy that was so commonplace in their world that most shinobi took the news with a stride and a solemn nod.

Dead shinobi happened all the time. Dead kids happened almost half as much.

"You've gotten way too good," Kotetsu huffed as he plonked down onto the grass. Sakura raised an eyebrow over her bottle.

"Thanks."

"Who taught you to fight like that?" he questioned. The technique she used was almost... impractical, in a way. Before she'd been taijutsu-focused and the earlier spar proved no different, but her punches and kicks had no rhyme or rhythm he could follow or pattern he could track. It was almost like there was no plan in that head of hers, but he  _knew_ there was never a moment an idea wasn't brewing behind her eyes. "I mean, it's definitely not Konoha-style."

"It's not," she admitted with a shrug. The blue ink under her left eye glimmered bright under the burning sun and she was paler than he remembered, but he supposed that a prison cell wasn't one of the best places to get a tan. The tattoo, though? Didn't take her for the type. "I picked up a few things. Tried out a few techniques." Green eyes slid to him, and he wondered just how she turned out this way—how she never managed to gain that same warmth as the village that surrounded her. "I had time."

"Yeah," he murmured, and his exhaustion spread further than just the sore muscles from their training session. "You did, didn't you?"

Sakura sat quietly for a few moments before she moved to sit closer to his side. "Don't think about it too much."

"Kinda hard not to."

"I'm alive."

"But I thought you were dead," he said. She frowned and he sighed, running a hand through his sweaty hair. "I didn't believe it at first, you know? We hear someone died out on the field, we get bitter, we think about it for a bit, we cope in our own way, we move on." He rubbed one of his eyes as his tone dropped. "... Shinobi go out one way or another, but..." He met her gaze and smiled a small, sad smile. "Team Eight's been part of the bi-annual Death Commemoration for a while now." Brows furrowing, eyes shining; if Sakura noticed, she said nothing about it. "We couldn't hold a funeral without your bodies."

As with all shinobi villages, the biggest plots of land belonged to the cemeteries. If there were no bodies for head markers, then names filled up countless mausoleums and memorial stones.

(Sometimes he didn't know what any of them were fighting for.)

A hand came to clasp Kotetsu's upper arm. From this angle, he could see the healed over scars and dotting calluses over the expanse of her fingers.

"I'm sorry we put you through that," she told him. Simply. Softly. Even if there was nothing for her to apologize for and the mere thought of her believing she felt the need to say it settled uneasily in the pit of his stomach. "But I'll let you know now that I can't be killed that easily."

He breathed out a long sigh. "Come on, you know we can't make promises like that."

"I wasn't making a promise," she said. Sakura stood and drew the katana back out, twirling it once. "Still got it in you for a few more rounds?"

She was hiding something, he bet. Several somethings, really, and he didn't know how much she could pile up before everything toppled and spilled like blood on dirt.

There had always been this thing about her he couldn't quite put his finger on. She was so closed and so off-putting that it was almost as if all she wanted to be was on her own, which couldn't be all that true with the way her and her team were so stuck at the hip.

He glanced at the weapon slung across her back. Attached to her pauldrons was a brown sheath with some baton-like thing strapped inside; thin, completely bandaged, probably two feet in length, and had never been drawn in a fight.

"Psh, a few rounds? Don't insult me."

Kotetsu pushed himself onto his feet and watched as she walked over to the other side of the training field.

But maybe.

He slipped a kunai from his thigh pouch and geared himself up for their next spar.

But maybe he would act just like her too if he had no one waiting for him to come back home.

:: ::

Kiba washed the dishes with an open book propped against the window in front of him. It was always one of those nameless texts, either blue or brown or green and frayed at the corners where threads of old stitching threatened to pull apart. His eyes never drifted from the pages but he worked the dishes like he had six pairs of eyes on them at all times, never chipping a bowl and arranging the drying rack like a professional. Not a single drop of water ever made it past the sink, and by the time the basin was cleared of suds and foodstuff, he spent the next twenty minutes sitting at the dining table writing notes from everything he'd read.

Tsume had seen him at it all three times it was his turn to clean up. Then again, three whole times was all she ever saw of him since he'd come back from that mission gone wrong, and she'd clung to that feeble hope that making him stay later with chores would somehow keep him home longer.

But no. It was still a wasted effort if she ever saw one.

Tsume crossed her arms over her chest as she sat in one of the kitchen chairs. Hana was running late at the veterinary clinic and couldn't make it to dinner which was all well and good, but that meant she wouldn't see her brother for what, another week because of all the time he was spending at Sakura's? She loved Sakura, but that didn't mean Kiba had to spend every waking minute away from his family.

She shook her head and watched as he dried his hands on a dish towel.

"There's a clan meeting in an hour," she said. "I want you to be there."

Kiba turned, tossing the towel over his shoulder and back next to the sink. "Huh?"

"Meeting. At Old Kei's house." Tsume jerked her head towards the door. "I know you haven't gone before, but it'll be good for you. Politics and stuff like that's a real pain in the ass, but the quicker you get it down the better it'll be for you in the future." Kiba's face screwed up, but he didn't nod his head or shrug his shoulders. Her eyes narrowed. "What?"

"Well you shoulda told me, like, yesterday or somethin' 'cause I already made plans—"

"With Sakura and Shino."

"—yeah, and I'm not 'bout to bail for some meeting that's got nothin' to do with me. Hana's the heir." He started unrolling the sleeves of his jacket that covered the brown bands on his arms, and that only welled a bubble of anger in Tsume's chest. He was going to brush her off? Just like that? Who the hell did this punk think he was?!

"It doesn't matter if Hana's the heir, you're going."

"I can't skip out on this. I promised," he said. "So no. I'm not."

" _Inuzuka Kiba_ ," she snapped. Her chair screeched as she shoved it back. Kuromaru warily got up on all fours and Akamaru merely turned his head towards the commotion from his spot splayed out in one of the entryways. "I. Wasn't. Asking."

At this point, he would've bared his teeth and snarled and yelled like a brat on a tantrum. Then they would've gone on a whole argument about his duty and his responsibilities as a member of this clan and she would've told him to grow up and step up. And ultimately he'd be forced to attend the meeting and would simmer in his seat the whole time.

He would've done all of that in that exact order. He should've.

But Kiba stared at her for a few moments, his eyes clouded and wild yet strangely calm like an ocean on the brink or a cliff with a crack. He didn't bare his fangs, he didn't ball his hands into fists. Instead, he never broke eye contact with his own mother as he finished unrolling his sleeves.

Tsume couldn't fathom his gall to stand like that—like a wolf facing off with no intent to back down.

_When had she become the enemy?_

"Akamaru, get our stuff upstairs."

The white canine shifted onto his paws and headed out.

"Akamaru," Kuromaru barked, his eye sliding to the pup's retreating form. Not so much a pup anymore, but... "Come back here this instant!"

Akamaru paused just long enough to meet the elder nin-dog's gaze. Then met Kiba's. Then continued his way up the stairs without another look back.

Kuromaru's fur bristled even as his skin crawled at the exchange.

"What the hell's goin' on with you two?" Tsume muttered. Her hand clawed through her thick hair. "I ask you to go to this one meeting. One! And now you've got this—this attitude!" She gestured to him and heard the faint, offended growl in his throat. Oh, so now she struck a nerve? "You're with your friends every single day and you can't spare one of those with your own family?! I'm not asking for a lot here, kid, work with me!"

"I already made a promise. They're my family, and I'm gonna keep it," he ground out.

"And _we're_  not?"

"I didn't say that! You can't just put words inta' my mouth—"

"And you can spend a few hours away from them for the sake of your clan and your future," she bit. A sigh that weighed a million tons fell out her lungs as she pressed her fingers to her forehead. "God," she murmured, "what's happening to you?"

(s n a p.)

"What's happening to me?  _What's happening to me?_ " An incredulous laugh burst from Kiba's lips. "I get it. You're mad 'bout me not bein' 'round anymore. But where were  _you_ with this lecture when I was a genin? I've been doing this for years and suddenly you're askin'  _what's happening to me?_ " His arm swept over his kitchen—towards his mother, towards Kuro, towards the no one else that gave a shit before. "You didn't care what I was doin', you didn't care that I'd been at Sakura's for days, you didn't care about any of that and all of a sudden you're making me go to meetings even though I made a promise to my pack? I've been walkin' out that door for WEEKS, so why's it now you're puttin' me on lockdown? Sorry, mom, we're not doin' this tonight."

"Don't make it sound like I don't care!"

"I'm not sayin' you don't care about me," he said. "I'm sayin' you don't care 'bout the  _rest_ of me."

Tsume flinched.

"Kiba," Kuromaru hissed. The teen scowled as his gaze flashed to his mother's partner. "We're only concerned for your well-being."

"Yeah, you could do with a lil' less."

The black dog drew himself up to his full height, shoulder blades to Tsume's hips as he stared down one of the youngest pups in this family. God, this family. Where was all of this coming from? When had Kiba become so, so— "I want you to take a step back and think about the things you've said. You might be experienced, but you're a boy. You might have been doing whatever you had to out there, but you're home. You might call this team your  _pack_ ," he said the word like he couldn't believe it and a fire surged through Kiba's every vein, "but you need to consider your clan. This is your obligation— _your burden_ —and you will take it up like all the Inuzuka with you and before you."

(Kiba thinks of sour air and dust. Screams still echo in his ears when he sleeps in a haze of fatigue and drugs and exhaustion and sometimes he forgets he's not there anymore, but when he presses his head against Sakura's chest and hears her heartbeat it drowns out the noise that doesn't stop. He smells blood, he smells metal, he doesn't remember the day he stopped being able to tell them apart. He worries, too. He worries more than he thinks he needs to. He worried when he thought Mabui had been too caring and when Darui had been too kind. He'd been worried about when the other shoe would drop. But now he worries when Shino's hands shake and he hunches in because of his anger and his guilt and his—and worries when Akamaru eats more than three times a day because he's afraid he'll go hungry because when he goes hungry he says bones pile up in corners and red stains his jaws and he's scared—)

His burden was to kill ninety-eight people in an arena for the world to enjoy like a play on a stage. His burden was to watch Shino’s eye get ripped out because he couldn’t do anything about it. His burden was to stop Sakura’s bleeding when they’d cut off her arm. His burden was to make those seals on his ears when he’d lost most of his hearing to an explosion that could’ve killed Kiyoi-san if he hadn’t stepped in.

“Pack’s always been there for me an’ Akamaru.  _Always_ ,” he told them quietly. “Don’t make me choose between them and the clan, ‘cause it’s gonna be the same answer every time.”

Akamaru silently slipped down the stairs like a wraith with a duffel bag hanging from his mouth and a harness of scrolls secured around his middle. He wove past Kuromaru's frozen bulk and Tsume's shivering legs until he was at his partner's side. He was quiet, he always was, especially as he watched the color drain from the two that raised both him and Kiba.

"I know my burdens," said Kiba. He took the duffel and slung it over his shoulder. "And yeah I'm probably bein' real selfish right now, but for once in my life I'd like to pick some burdens of my own."

They weren't stopped as they strode from the kitchen and out the front door, and they didn't look back as the porch lights of the main Inuzuka household grew smaller in the distance.

(Kiba thinks of burdens.

He thinks he'll take on as many as he can carry for his home in a girl with pink hair and in a boy who named every single one of his insects.)

:: ::

Kurenai’s apartment wasn’t as warm as it used to be. The curtains were always drawn and the oven hadn’t been used in over a year, but the cluster of bodies at the table knocked shoulders together and bumped arms when they reached for honey and sugar and little lemon slices to put in their tea.

_‘They used to be so small’_ , Kurenai thought as she subtly brushed away a stray tear as she tucked some hair behind her ear. And so, so much more  _whole_.

"At that point, Koinobori had all gone ta’ shit. They were still puttin' out the fires, but we were already on a boat ta' Lightning Country," Kiba continued with a light sneer. "We shoulda' killed that bastard when we had the chance."

Sakura sipped her tea. "We didn't know."

"It was our fault for letting our guard down, but it wasn't our fault for everything that happened after," Shino cut in. His fingers curled around his cup and the tea was still warm, but he didn't drink out of it much. Some of his kikai crawled around the rim and some perched along the sleeves of his black shirt. "It ended up being for the best."

Four silencing seals were tacked up along the walls, as Tenzo quietly listened to their story from his seat beside Sakura, he can't help but glance up at them every now and again. Before, they'd only glowed a muted blue upon their activation and would flash yellows for warnings and reds for danger. But these new ones... shimmered. Sky blue waves of light rippled like the sea with chakra he could see but not sense; it was different from before. Stronger.

He wondered how Kiba learned it. He wondered about the seals that dangled from his ears.

(Guilt swelled just like it did in the early mornings he could never sleep through.)

"We were caught by Kumogakure Border Patrol," Shino continued, "after our  _leader_ had left us to die in that forest." He tilted his head. "I remember what happened. Clearly. I had been bound, Sakura had a tanto through her ribs first before it was driven through her palm to pin her to the ground, Kiba had been pierced through the legs and one shoulder, and Akamaru had broken the tree he'd been thrown through."

"We didn't stand a chance," Sakura added with an untroubled nod.

"Keh. At least Patrol was nice enough to drag us back unconscious 'nstead of kickin' and screamin'."

Kurenai, who'd been silent since they'd started recounting their story, balled her hands in her lap. She'd cried the day they came back and stained their shirts with the tears she couldn't stop. Through the clogged throat she tried so hard to speak through she begged for their forgiveness, holding them close and spilling apologies into their hair. Hope and defiance and favorite foods and dark glasses and the color pink—too much of it had swirled in her head as she sobbed and sobbed and sobbed, their arms wrapped around her when she wasn't worth it, the way they called her sensei when she'd never been more than undeserving.

_"How can you call me that after everything I didn't do for you?"_

_"How? We had our... disagreements, but you have no reason to be remorseful."_

_"I drove you away."_

_"C'mon, sensei, don't say that. We... shouldn't have given you a choice like that. It wasn't fair."_

_"You should hate me."_

_"You never did anything we'd hate you for."_

_(She clung onto them for the rest of the night.)_

"It was about two months into the imprisonment that things started to change and Shino got out first," Sakura said. Her head jerked to her friend who sat across from her. "They always put you on the graveyard shift, didn't they?"

"In the beginning. They acclimatized me to the hospital and its staff before my rotations began to include afternoons and evenings."

Tenzo's brows shot up. "They had you work in public? As prisoners from an enemy country?"

"The three of us operated under an alias approved by the Raikage. Why? It was more efficient to align us with Kumo's needs rather than leaving us in those cells, I suppose. I practiced at Cirrus Central, Kiba was taken to the Seals Division, and Sakura—"

"Got ta' be a training dummy!" Kiba laughed. Sakura blinked.

"How tall are you again?"

"I'm literally gonna kill you."

Akamaru snuffled a laugh beneath the table as he curled around one of the wooden legs. His paws stretched over Sakura's feet, the length of his back pushed against Shino and Kiba's shins and his tail flopped near Kurenai's heels.

(Kurenai almost lost herself in another onslaught of tears.  _They still knew how to laugh._ )

Tenzo shifted slightly in his seat, their words a little more than incredulous to his ears. He battled enough Kumo-nin in his life to know just what type of shinobi they were and understood just the type of regard they held themselves at. They were brutish, almost—enough that the comparison between them and the typical Konoha-nin was like a comparison between stormy mountains and sunny meadows.

But still, to the extent that they'd come out of that village almost the same as when they'd gone in...

"They treated you well," he said.

"You sound confused," Shino mused as he tilted his head a bit to the side.

"I just don't quite understand... how." The ANBU splayed his fingers over the edge of the table. "You shouldn't have made it out of there  _alive_. If alive, then not sane at the very least. Sakura-san, with what happened with your arm, didn’t Kumo…?"

Three glances exchanged across the cups on the table for the briefest of moments before two of them landed on Sakura and she turned hers to the side to address the two adults to her right. She was as blank and unreadable as ever, and perhaps she'd gotten better at her outward indifference.

" _Kuhlonitshwana kabili_. Or, ' _it is respected twice_ ,'" she explained. It was so odd to see her hair short enough to barely scrape against the nape of her neck. "Konoha and Kumo never managed to get along since the  _Kingin Kyodai_  assaulted the Nidaime Raikage and almost killed Senju Tobirama during the ceremony to formally agree to peace. Until this day, the Kumor think Konohans are spineless dogs and Konohans think Kumor are unprincipled beasts." She shrugged. "Things sort of fell together when we were there. The longer we spent there the less time we spent in our cells and the more they stopped re-shackling us when we were brought back to the Penitentiary for the day." The corner of her lips pulled up into a small, wistful smile. "Did you know the reason why most of them don't have surnames is because they all see each other as part of the same family?"

Tenzo didn't. Neither did Kurenai.

“I lost my arm to the Coliseum. Kumo taught me that I didn’t need it to be a good shinobi,” Sakura said. The clawed marks on her shoulder peeked out of her shirt, still bright and pink as the day the Kyuubi’s chakra ripped through her. “What’s one more scar to carry?”

Tenzo looked away.

Kiba pushed his hand through his hair, some of his fingers catching on a knot in the back. The twin slips that hung on his ears swung near his still-bare cheeks as he tugged to comb through it. Kurenai couldn't drag her eyes away from the meticulously painted seals.

"... We didn't want to leave," he admitted quietly. "It was the first time in a long time where we didn't hafta' worry 'bout anythin'. Where we didn't have to worry 'bout anyone killin' us." He chuckled lightly. "It's funny. All I ever heard about Kumo was that they hated Konohans the most."

Kiba's sleeveless arms exposed the dark red tattoo on his bicep and the blue ink crested along Sakura's cheekbone was near impossible to miss. Shino had to have a tattoo on him as well through it was something they couldn't see, but his and his teammates' marked forearms matched each other in perfect unity: one earthy band near the elbow, two earthy bands near the wrist.

To anyone else, it would have been proof of shame hidden away beneath layers of bandages and shirts and guilt.

"So why didn't you stay?"

They all turned to Kurenai whose face was still puffy after all her tears earlier in the morning when she saw their return still wasn't a dream. Some strands of her hair frizzed and the bags under her eyes weren’t as dark as they were just a few weeks ago. But there was love in her gaze and a perpetual sadness in her eyes as she looked at her team. Her kids.

"You wouldn't have been hurt anymore," she continued softly. "If you stayed," her brows furrowed and her red eyes shone, "then you could've been happy."

(Pink and dogs and glasses and favorite foods.)

It was odd to see a small smile worm onto Shino’s face. Before, it was always serious or angry or that trademark Aburame indifference. It might have been a smile that sent a pang through her chest because it shouldn’t have looked so resigned.

"We could have." Shino’s thumb traced over the bumps and grooves of one of the infinite scars on his skin. "But we didn't. Why? Because we have one goal, and we aren't striving for it to be  _happy_."

Kurenai's bottom lip wobbled. "I wish you did."

"Yeah." Kiba grinned, but everything about it fell flat. "We wish we did too."

:: ::

"Well, looks like Shikamaru lied to me almost two years ago."

Kankuro, sixteen and sharper, slipped the bandaged puppet off his back and propped it against the bar as he slid onto the stool on Sakura's left. He'd been to this particular bar a few times since the beginning of his visits to Konoha every other month—one of those ones where the only required identification for shinobi were a hitai-ate and a haunted look around the eyes.

His head bobbed as he gave her a once over. "You don't look dead. "

She turned her head towards him. "Color me surprised."

"Hey, save your bullshit until after I'm buzzed." He waved the bartender down, eyes still on her. "You drink?"

"No." She brought her glass of what was probably a mocktail up to her lips. "How long have you?"

He ordered some warm sake and propped an elbow up on the bar. "Eh, sometime after the first couple weeks of being a genin? Probably had something to do with being scared shitless having Gaara on my team and dealing with all the fucked Suna politics. But hey, what can you do?"

"I remember seeing Gaara-san kill those Amegakure shinobi during the Exams." She lifted her glass in a half-hearted toast. "Congrats on your position, by the way. Did they give you a shiny gold pin to flash around?"

"Shut the fuck up. And yeah, I remember you and your team skulkin' around the treeline." Kankuro waved a hand. "But whatever, it was a million years ago." He pointed to her left arm and the half that remained. " _That_ looks like a story, though." His gaze drifted to her other arm. The brown that wrapped her skin read like a code in his eyes. Upon his ascension to Ambassador, he had to pore over every book about every country's customs and traditions and practices. "Kumo?"

"Good deduction skills," she hummed. The bartender set a sake bottle and a pair of ceramic cups between them before drifting off to another part of the bar. "Yeah. Kumo."

"Huh." He tipped some sake into his cup and wasted no time in throwing it back in one quick flick. "But seeing that you're here and not six feet under, there must have been one hell of a miracle for you to crawl all the way back here." He poured himself some more alcohol. "Or you're stupid lucky."

His gaze stayed to her arms, and he was careful to keep himself from noting the blue on her cheek with anything other than a cursory glance. As with nearly all the texts on the world's nations, nothing he'd read about Kumo came from an actual Kumor themselves. His background was fully Sunese like many of the Ambassadors before him, and every annotation and warning from his predecessors came from their own travels.

"This was before Kumo. A misjudgment on my part." Sakura set her arm on the table and leaned. "I adapt. I move on. And now I'm here."

The old books could only say so much. But in one journal he'd read from an Ambassador working around the same time as the Nidaime Kazekage—the only one of their line who managed to stay for a few days high up on the Kumogakure plateaus—emphasized one key point she learned from watching the streets from a heavily guarded hotel room window.

_ Most of the time you can tell from which country a shinobi belongs, _

she'd written with a heavy hand.

_ If he is Sunese, he is a thousand desert sands of browns and blacks and tans and whites with a speckle of red in the wind. If he is Konohan, he is a field of spring blooming flowers in brights in bolds, in sunshine and grass. If he is Kirian, he is the oceans and algae and prickling purple sea urchins, the low grays of their mists and ashes of volcanic rock. If he is Iwavian, he is fire and stone and clay sculpture and baths of red dye their merchants use to color cloths on street sides. _

_ But the Kumor? You cannot tell if one is Kumor. There is not a single hair color I have not seen and the shades of their skin are an unending ombre. If you ask me to describe the typical Kumor, I cannot say. They are simply so different from one another, but so cohesive. _

_ Though as beautiful as the Kumor are, there is something I think we as outsiders fail to understand. _

_ Once they take hold of you, they do not let you go. _

Kankuro didn't quite know what that old Ambassador was getting at, and he was pretty sure a lot of her writing reeked of a 'If-you're-not-Sunese-you're-weird' mentality, so he took a lot of her interpretations with a grain of salt.

But what he did know was that Sakura, even with all the luck she had, shouldn't have gotten out of there with air in her lungs and blood in her body. They'd marked her for death with those bands on her forearm, and Kumo wasn't known for their mercy.

_'Head of a jackal, body of a man; the protector of cemeteries, the dead; a judge before the afterlife,'_ he thought dryly.

Whatever happened to her out there wasn't his business. She could tell him if she wanted, but he wasn't gonna poke and prod and squeeze her out of a story that he had no right in asking for.

And that tattoo on her face…

Wait. What happened to her arm was  _before_ Kumo?

"I can do you one better," he said. Sakura set down her glass, and eyebrow raised. He held out a hand. "May I?"

Her eyes flashed briefly— _suspiciondistrustwariness_ —but she nodded slowly and lifted her left arm. Kankuro gently grasped the end and unwrapped the bandages with a deft hand. Cleanly cut, minimal scarring but paled and wrinkled at the worst of it; a transhumeral amputation that had undergone optimal adjustment to the loss of limbs and a balance of muscle distribution between both upper arms...

He re-wrapped her arm and sat back. "So I've got a proposition."

Sakura tapped her fingers against the bar. Puzzle pieces clicked together behind her gaze and he knew she was the farthest thing from an idiot. He caught her glances at the bound puppet near their stools and could feel the gears churning in her head, probably cycling through everything she knew about Suna and their specialties. "What's in it for you?

He didn't tell her that when Shikamaru mentioned her and her team suddenly turned up well and alive, he finished up his duties quicker than usual to see for himself just how well and alive she was. He didn't tell her that the moment his eyes laid on her arm his mind immediately went through all he knew to try and help her just because he knew he could.

He didn't tell her that even if they'd only known each other for a few months at most, she was one of the better friends he'd ever had.

Instead, he said, "I stay on your side, you stay on mine. Remember?"

Kankuro poured more sake into his cup. It dribbled out until it filled a little more than three fourths of the way up. But before he could even reach out for it, it was gone and off the table.

"I remember," Sakura replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. White porcelain was a stark contrast against her fingers, and he glowered as she downed the rest of his drink. "So, what did you have in mind?"

:: ::

Hey, everyone! In case you haven't heard, I've been working on another story! Non-Naruto related (shocking), MCU, Peter Parker-centric. Here's the link and summary if you're interested!

[ **_ Frostbite _ ** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22137838)

Peter wasn't going to let May pay the rent all on her own. Not when there was the two of them, not when being Spider-Man made everything that much harder.

And if that meant washing scratched up dishes and scrubbing old blood from the tile grout at Sister Margaret's School for Wayward Girls, then so be it.

(If only his problems didn't multiply from there.)

::

[MCU-verse]

**BETA:** OfCloves on Wattpad

**Cover Art Commission by:**  frostmarris on tumblr


	8. The Blood of the Covenant

"They're weird," Tsunade commented bluntly as she spun her chair around and stared out the glass window of the Hokage office. Down below, Team Eight walked the path back to the rest of the village after a flawlessly completed B-rank within a few kilometers of Konoha. Kiba was waving his hands dramatically as he explained something while Sakura replied in even words that never forced a shift in her posture. Shino watched on, exasperated, and Akamaru trotted alongside them with a wagging tail and closed snout.

"Tsunade-sama?"

"I heard Kamizuki and Hagane talking the other day," the Godaime continued. "Called that team 'Unlucky Eight.'" She set an elbow on one of the arm rests and dropped her chin in her hand. "They came back from the dead. Sounds pretty damn lucky to me."

"Maybe the name was for the irony?" Shizune suggested as she thumbed through a stack of papers that needed a Seal of Approval. "They're an interesting batch of chuunin—maybe they had some notoriety before you came into office?"

Notorious. She supposed that was one word to describe them, but Tsunade wasn't so sure it was the one she'd use. Notoriety required some sort of fame in the shinobi community and as far as she was concerned, the only time there had been a buzz about them was when the news about them going MIA on their very first mission as chuunin was whispered in hallways and across mission desks. And like all tragedies that befell shinobi, talks about things like that died out after no more than a week. Team Eight had been no different.

Now, if their story had been something along the likes of Uchiha Sasuke defecting to Orochimaru, it would have taken Konoha by storm and every single person from genin to chuunin to jounin would've heard about it.

But Eight wasn't that. Eight was just another pile of paperwork and another few names added to memorial stones and the Death Commemoration, as coarse as it was to admit.

Tsunade's eyes flickered back to the team before they could drift out of sight. Shino with his heavy green jacket, Kiba with his paint-less cheeks, Sakura with her left arm bandaged from the middle of her bicep all the way down to the  _tips of her fingers_.

The prosthesis was new. So new, in fact, that just a few minutes ago was the first she'd ever seen it. Though completely covered without a centimeter poking out from under the tight wrappings, Tsunade's critical eye noted how its size mirrored the right arm and its movements were as fluid and precise as flesh-and-bone.

Konoha General Hospital hadn't provided any experimental prostheses recently, but what she did hear was that the girl had been spending an unusual amount of her time with Suna's Ambassador.

She spun her seat back towards her desk and frowned at the new stack of papers Shizune set in her line of vision. And speaking of hospitals, Shibi's boy had been an enigma. Not only was his entrance exam one of the highest scoring for newly instated medics, but he was proving very quickly that he was one of the most efficient, competent employees Tsunade had seen in a very long time. No-nonsense, keen, and despite his frankly unfortunate bedside manner, he worked with an experienced hand and worked the floor like it was his second nature.

_'Experience he shouldn't have if he'd been in prison for a year and a half.'_

But then again, he had all those little scars that startled the other medics when they'd completed his physical as part of that T&I screening. Criss-crossing each other in a plethora of lengths and depths, they were  _everywhere_ as far as his medical report was concerned. Perhaps he'd gotten practice taking care of those whether they'd been acquired from his time rotating cells or self-inflicted.

Besides his genius, though, came this unexpected penchant for disregarding authority. The first few times it amused her to hear some things he'd done that earned a warning rather than a demerit, like blatantly ignoring the attending head medic's orders or taking up his own duties when none were assigned. He never spoke out of turn or insulted another coworker, but  _damn_ was he racking up warning slips in his file. This sort of insubordination,  _especially_ for some green-nosed chuunin, would have called for several demerits and a potential firing had he not been so damn  _good_ at his job.

But maybe he was too good.

Because Aburame Shino was currently serving a month suspension from his duties.

_"He's dangerous!"_

_"He broke almost every rule in the book!"_

_"He willingly put everyone else at risk for that stunt he pulled!"_

Hinata had been the only one to defend him.

_"If he hadn't done what he did, those children would have died!"_

But majority won, and Tsunade would rather have him suspended than dismissed from his service.

_'No one in the Aburame Clan was ever as bold as that one,'_ she noted with a downturn of her lips.  _'So what makes this one so different?'_

Tsunade plucked a pen off her desk and clicked it a few times too many as a pulsing pain began to claw at her temples.

And then came Tsume's youngest. Loud, like his mother. Expressive, like his sister. Wild, like everyone else in the clan. But oddly, he was also unnervingly adept at seals as demonstrated from the tests Morino made him take, if not proof enough from the auditory stabilizers on his ears or the storage seal on his arm. From what she'd been hearing, he'd been having seals lessons with his old Academy sensei before he disappeared, and though she'd never seen any of his work, Iruka had been adamant in keeping up his studies and enlisting him in every seals-related opportunity.

And that just didn't make any goddamn sense. His grades had been mediocre at best and appalling at worst, and his best subject had been any physical education courses except the ones that required weapons to aim. So where the hell was this coming from? And why was there no note of it?

Three times he submitted an application for a position in the Seals Division and once did he apply to the Cryptanalysis Team. All four times, he was denied due to restrictions in status and experience.

Come to think of it, that Sakura girl didn't have any defining skills or traits either, yet she was clearly the one her teammates deferred to. Cold, apathetic, with nothing but 'average' marked in every aspect of her file...

(She had never seen green eyes so unsettling.)

Tsunade sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Not notorious. Just weird." She pulled open the drawer by her desk and rummaged around. "You hear anything about them, you let me know ASAP. Keep an eye out for their habits, their routines, but don't breathe a word of it to anyone. Got it, Shizune?"

"Yes, Tsunade-sama."

"Good. HA!" The Hokage yanked out an unopened bottle of sake, much to her assistant's and Tonton's dismay, and popped the cap off with her teeth.

Team Eight was an enigma, and one way or another she was going to find out just what was  _unlucky_ about them.

:: ::

Sakura stared down at her open palm. She curled her fingers inward one at a time before she splayed them out again, each of her digits disquietingly flexible. She unbound the bandages.

"Does it hurt?"

Shino's hands slid over hers as a small batch of kikai crawled along the metal of her left wrist. The prosthesis had taken three months of planning and sketching and construction and while Kankuro had done most of the building and designing back in Suna, the nights of his stays in Konoha were spent looming over blueprints in her cramped kitchen with Akamaru under the table and the rest of her pack snoozing away just one room over.

It was a late, late night when she'd gotten a parcel from one of Kankuro's summons—a gila monster the size of a large goat—with a tag that said  _'For Tourist Guides Only.'_

And inside was an ash black arm made from a mixture of wood and steel and lightweight alloys. Smooth and sleek, the inside was mostly hollow save for the single metal bar run through the middle to serve as a conduit for chakra. Intricate curves and spirals adorned the surface with all the hard ridges sanded down and polished just enough that when the sun caught it there was no gleam.

Kankuro emphasized that wood alone was versatile for their puppeteers because of their maneuverability, weight, and easy control from a distance, but Sakura was neither a puppeteer nor a long-range fighter so some adjustments needed to be made. Something heavier but not too much to keep her balance, something that could latch tightly onto her weapons but not lock on accident, something that could both benefit her when she utilized it but not harm her permanently when she didn't.

_"There are some puppet masters that have limbs replaced with wooden parts," he said to her one night. "They see it as weaponizing weak bodies, but I guess there's some of us who take it too far." His brows furrowed. "You ever heard of Akasuna no Sasori? The nuke-nin that turned himself into a living puppet?"_

_A gravelly voice. A poison-tipped tail. A hunch that almost touched the ground._

_"Once or twice," she replied._

_"Genius work. Crazy dude. But I digress." He waved a hand. "In order to work a puppet limb attached to your own body as a replacement for something lost, you need to channel your chakra through the wood and trick your body into thinking that it's the real deal. You follow?"_

_Sakura nodded._

_"Okay, so basically you've got your nervous system running throughout your whole body, taking messages from the brain telling your muscles to move. Your nerve endings got severed where your arm got cut, but you can extend those nerve endings through your chakra network. If you can force the chakra flow from the amputation site into the arm and back like how it cycled before you lost your arm, you've got it in full working order!" Kankuro leaned forward, a single finger up in the air. "But the drawback is that it requires extremely high levels of chakra control to replicate networks that no longer exist while maintaining the connection loops for as long as you use the arm, which is why you really don't see the technique used outside Suna."_

_He stared at her arm for a few moments before meeting her blank gaze._

_"What are your strengths?"_

_She could lie to him. Tell him her strengths lay with flashy jutsu she never showed to keep her cards hidden or that she was the absolute worst at taijutsu and couldn't get through a kata without a fumble. She could say anything and he would have nothing to base it off and keep it all close to her chest so he could never have the chance to use it against her._

_Or get the chance to thrust a tanto through her hand if she ever left her side wide open._

_"... I'm a genjutsu type and a swordsman," she said. He cocked an eyebrow. "And my chakra control is good."_

_"Good enough for what we need?"_

_"Better."_

_Kankuro whistled. "Then that's one less thing we've gotta worry about." He craned his neck towards the blueprints, and Sakura silently marveled at how he took her truth without question. "But teaching you how to connect your chakra's the easy part."_

_"Reassuring."_

_"Heh, thought we were done?" he grinned. The plastic chair creaked under him as he crossed his arms and slumped back. "But yeah, the real problem's gonna be getting used to the arm itself. I'm only going off what I've heard, but what's going to suck the most is dealing with the nerve endings where you make the first connection. And it's gonna suck every time you put the arm on and take it off."_

_A slight grimace graced her lips, but it was mostly hidden under her concession._

_"Not to mention you've got to be careful about things like weather, humidity, strain. Human bodies do all that on their own to a certain extent, but you'll need to watch that arm at all times. Which means I've also got to teach you about maintenance, repair, upkeep..."_

Screws were drilled into the bottom of her left arm under Shino's supervision for the initial joint mechanism, and her first attempt at extending her chakra network and maintaining a loop had been a complete success.

(The pain brought her to her knees and she bit the inside of her cheek so hard her mouth swamped with blood.)

But it was an advantage, wasn't it? No matter how much it hurt and no matter how long it would take her to learn to use a second arm again, if it helped her in the long run then all the downsides were temporary.

(What's one more burden? What's one more scar?)

"Not currently," she said. "We're not doing anything else today, are we?"

"Not that I can think of."

"Then I won't need the arm."

She held in the shaky breath that wants its freedom as her right hand wrapped around the junction where skin turned to metal. The locking mechanism slot drove a simple path of twist-right crest-down-left-up-release for the physical removal and she smoothly removed the prosthesis, chakra channels still connected.

Kiba draped an arm around her waist to keep her steady and Shino kept a glowing hand close by in case she needed to numb the pain.

Three, two—

Her vision sparked at the edges as the pain grated against her brain like nails on a chalkboard. She stumbled once to the side but Kiba's grip stayed firm, and she took a few seconds to catch her breath before she pat his hand and he let her go with a disgruntled frown.

"There really isn't a way ta' make it hurt less?" he grouched. Shino's fingertips faded back to its normal color as he wound around the table to pull the makings of their dinner out of the fridge and spread them out on the counter.

"There are some ways to lessen the pain." He leveled a glare over his shoulder. "But  _someone_ refuses to use medications or anesthesia."

Sakura lowered herself into one of her hard plastic chairs, laying her prosthesis out in front of her. "If in any event there's an attack, I'll lose efficiency. We can't afford that, and if that means getting used to this pain, fine."

"Literally, you're the worst."

"Literally, bite me."

Shino gnashed his teeth towards her once before he threw his jacket over the back of a chair and rolled up his sleeves to start preparing their food. It was a  _thenthuk_ recipe Yugito taught him during one of her recovery days between missions, and though yak was as scarce as they came in Konoha, they settled for some Suna-imported camel for the dish. He set the melktert they'd made yesterday out on the other end of the table, half-finished and made in the painstaking way Enmu once described to them. She'd talked about it for an entire two hours and drew pictures of each ingredient on little sticky notes until the pad ran out.

"Aside from Sakura's apparent lack of self-preservation," Shino began as he began kneading a flour and water dough between his hands, "How are things with Tsume-sama, Kiba?"

Kiba stretched his arms over his head. "Eh, I haven't gone back since me an' Akamaru walked out. I mean, Mom and Kuro haven't gone lookin' for us, so..." He shrugged. "I dunno." He saw Hana every now and again, though. Sometimes he would pass the vet clinic she worked at on his way to the library or to meet Iruka or pay Kurenai and Tenzo a visit, but he never stayed too long. Hana was busy with work and he was busy with... well—

He sighed. "I love Mom. Really." He dragged out a pot from one of the cupboards and placed it on the stove. "But I know I can't tell her anythin'. And maybe I'm bein' even more selfish by not heading back but every time I see her... I can see how guilty she feels." His brow knit. "She's not good at hidin' it."

But then he smiled half-heartedly before turning to Shino to ask about what to do next for the recipe.

Akamaru wandered to where Sakura sat where she propped her chin up on her right knuckles. The ninken dropped his own chin in her lap and whined until she was scratching his ears and rubbing the soft fur on his head.

In the center of her prosthetic palm was the engraving of a lizard in a thinly lined box. Kankuro's signature.

Sasori's had always been a red scorpion trapped in a red diamond.

_Did you understand that, girl? You're Akatsuki's homegrown advantage. How does it feel to be used?_

"We've been back in Konoha for half a year now," she said. Her thumb caressed Akamaru's snout and he tucked his head closer to her stomach. "It's been long enough for us to settle and re-establish ourselves in the village, but I can see you two haven't been too content with what we've returned to."

"The health care centers here have improved since Tsunade-sama has taken over. Why? She is intelligent and adept and patched the systems and protocols to her best ability, so I have no quarrel on that matter. But," Shino's knife whacked against the cutting board, the wood splitting slightly, "You have already heard of my suspension. There was a boy I had assessed for general diagnosis and I noticed he had an arrhythmia his file had down as a chronic heart condition. I prepared to send my kikai into his body to confirm the source, but the head medic demanded I keep my ' _pests_ ' away from the patients." The knife hit the board again. Louder. "When he left, I sent in a team of kikai and discovered both him and his sister required heart surgery that involved removing an irregularity in their system. Another two weeks without treatment would have resulted in their deaths."

Kiba bared his fangs. "And they fucking suspended you for that?!"

"I suppose performing the surgeries of my own accord was a cause for suspension," he admitted with a shrug. "Hyuuga-san and Tsunade-sama were the only ones standing between me and termination. I am thankful for that." Shino's mouth curled into a slight sneer. "Though I do not  _appreciate_ the lack of competence of my coworkers when they did not take my concerns seriously."

When he saved Yugito's life from the parasites squirming in her brain, he wasn't met with punishment. C had thanked him, and so had the nurses, and it granted him ever more freedom from the cells.

Shino exhaled quietly. It was much simpler being a prisoner.

"Piece of shit system," Kiba hissed. "I can't believe you got suspended for savin' lives."

Sakura frowned. "Hyuuga-san defended you?"

"She is the Hokage's apprentice; she's bound to obtain similarities in their thinking, I suppose." Shino shook his head slightly and focused back on the cutting board. "What has caused your aggravation, Kiba?"

He scoffed. "What hasn't?" His fangs were sharp as they flashed in the low light, but his shoulders hunched close to his ears as he thought back to all the time they spent back in Konoha." Things with Iruka-sensei are cool an' all, but ta’ be in the Seals Division I need ta’ maintain an active chuunin rank for at least a year and half. The time we spent in Kumo doesn't count since we were in enemy territory and were technically considered dead, so."

Akamaru's low growl reverberated through his entire body.

"And, like, it's stupid hard to get any good seals books outta the libraries and archives 'round here. The real good texts are from Uzushio and anythin' that survived's locked away somewhere in the Hokage Library. Breaking into it once was already bad enough, and I don't think I could do it again. 'specially since we're still not trusted all that well."

They weren't being trailed, per se, nor were they barred from traffic in and out of the village, but they saw the way the mission desks hesitated in handing them the higher classified missions and caught the calculating gleam in the Hokage's eyes when they reported to her.

They weren't in the clear. They weren't going to give Konoha another reason to shove a blade through their ribs.

Kiba shook his head. "But whatever. I'll find somethin' even if it means diggin' through the black market. Whatta' 'bout you, Sakura?"

She straightened the prosthesis on the table. What about her? She didn't seek a higher position of power in the village, instead sticking to alley corners and hidden alcoves and watching everything from afar. She listened to whispers near market stalls and tracked rumors from the shadows, and if not there she secluded herself in the Forest of Death where she let kubikiribocho breathe and all her destruction was passed off as by the monsters that lurked in the trees.

It was there she broke down the complexity of the blade. For hours she spent studying its structure and its abilities, and it was after days and days and weeks and weeks that she was able to carry it around with her all the time with no one else knowing any better. Kubikiribocho had the unique power of regenerating from the blood of its victims. Its high durability already made it resistant to many attacks and the more victims it cut through, the more the sword was sustained.

It was an accident the day she shattered the blade. She'd been practicing  _Doton: Domu_ and landed a direct hit on the sword; the hilt and the blade separated, and upon the ripped connection the metal had melted into old coppery blood, leaving the hilt all on its own.

She regenerated it with creature blood to train and broke it down to keep it hidden.

The hilt she would keep strapped in a brown sheath attached to her pauldrons. It looked to be a baton-like thing; thin, completely bandaged, probably two feet in length, and as of this day had never been drawn in a fight.

She wished she'd been able to show Bee.

"Konoha is too close to the ground," she said. "And the air is too heavy."

There was quiet for a moment.

"Ah, fuck," Kiba sighed. "We got attached. That sucks."

Sakura stood from her chair and strode over to throw her arm around Kiba's shoulders and leaned her head on top of Shino's who continued to butcher camel meat. Akamaru snatched the bone thrown his way.

"We'll be okay," she murmured.

And they would. Because they wouldn't know what to do if they didn’t.

:: ::

Uzumaki Naruto took in the view of a village he hadn't seen in over two years.

"Everything's still the same, huh," he sighed as he relished the warm air. His heart lit up as he stood in the midst of the village that made him, that raised him.

(He ignored the small part of his mind that always whispered, that never forgot the life he lived all alone in that apartment. Here was where shop fronts sneered when he passed them and where there was never a moment he missed a glance over his shoulder to make sure no bottles rained down on him or hands reached out to choke his neck. This was a village that spat in his face when it talked and shoved him into walls when he was too slow to dodge.

This was the village that made him, that hated him.

Why was he happy to be back home?)

Blue eyes wandered over the faces of Hokage Mountain, and he grinned. "They added Baa-chan's face!"

"Na-Naruto-kun!" a voice called up to him. "When did you get ba-back?!"

Naruto looked down, and there was Hinata. Her long black hair sat in a braid down her back. A light lavender, short-sleeved kimono shirt hugged her loosely as a wine purple sash wrapped around her waist, and her dark navy pants cut off at the ankles as she bore her hitai-ate proudly around her neck.

"Just now!" He leapt onto the street from his perch on a lamp post, landing squarely beside a patiently-waiting Jiraiya. "Hinata-chan! How've you been?"

Her cheeks dusted pink. "I've been doing well. B-But!" She smiled widely. "How has your training gone? Did you manage to learn a lot from Jiraiya-sama?"

"Hell yeah! I got a ton of super cool jutsu to show off, 'ttebayo!"

"Really?" Her inquiry was so genuine that he wasn't used to it. "I'm sure you've gotten stronger n-now."

She was always so...  _nice_. He didn't get it sometimes..

Naruto scratched the back of his head. "Heh heh. Hinata-chan, you haven't changed a bit."

And if Hinata hadn’t changed, then maybe...

His hand fell back to his side and brushed against the chest of his jacket, and he was reminded of the weight in the inside pocket. It pressed firmly against his chest and it was familiar—so familiar that he could feel the plastic bag on his fingers when he held it at night and could recall the exact color of the twine that knotted around a stack of pristine white envelopes.

"We should pay Tsunade-hime a visit," Jiraiya hummed, snapping Naruto out of his thoughts. "Let her know about us being in the village and have you reinstated as an official shinobi of the village, brat."

"Tsunade-shishou should be available for a meeting right now," Hinata offered. "I can walk you ov-over."

The path to Hokage Tower was one that filled Naruto with an ages old nostalgia. When he was in the kid this was the road he took the most when he was chased by shinobi after a prank or when he ran from the older kids who wanted to beat him up for looking too much like a fox. But every now and again this was the same road old man Hiruzen walked with him when they had lunch at Ichiraku's.

And once they stepped through the doors of Tsunade's office, the woman in question met their arrival with a soft smile and eyes as bright as the Konoha sun.

"It's been a long time, you two," she greeted. "I hope that all that time you've spent out there wasn't for nothing."

Her face was as young as the last Naruto had seen her, face flawless and hair immaculate. The same purple seal sat in the middle of her forehead and her lips were glossed with the same peach lipstick. She was the same—exactly the same—and it stemmed a hope in his chest that everything else was the same. That nothing changed.

Jiraiya crossed his arms, offense across the shallow wrinkles in his face. "You thought I was going to train him all over the world and teach him  _nothing_? What do you take me for, Tsunade-hime?"

"An idiot."

" _Well_."

"Show me how much you've improved, then," the Hokage continued, ignoring her old teammate as he stuck his bottom lip out in a pout—after all these years he was still the same old blockhead, wasn't he—and focused on both her student and Jiraiya's disciple. "I want you—the  _both_ of you—to showcase your skills against a shinobi of my choosing. I've even put him on mission standby for a few days just for this very occasion."

“Aw, Baa-chan, you got us a welcome home gift?”

“Stuff your cheek, brat.”

There was a knock at the door.

Tsunade leaned back in her chair. "Come in!"

Naruto turned as the door swung open, and into the office walked a Konoha shinobi in a standard issue flak vest and some other visitor from Suna. The former's pierced ears and spiked ponytail was almost immediately recognizable, and Hinata takes a small, excited step forward.

"Shikamaru-san! Look who ca-came back!"

Shikamaru blinked twice as he took in the newcomers in the room. A garishly orange outfit, blond hair, blue eyes. "Naruto?" Two more blinks, a few more seconds of staring. "What the—it's really you, isn't it?"

Beside him, Suna-guy's lips twitched up in incredulity. _'No way that's that little shrimp from the Exams who went all gung-ho on that Hyuuga in the finals,'_  he grumbled to himself.  _'Still, if Sakura could turn into a mountain I guess he could stack up a few inches.'_

"You look like you've found a few more brain cells," Shikamaru mused, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"Uh... thanks? I think?" Naruto paused. "Wait, so does that mean you're the one we're fighting?!"

"Fighting?" the Nara repeated. "I just came to deliver some documents."

"Then..." Naruto turned towards the other who'd come into the office and took in his pitch black outfit and the three thick scrolls stacked against his back. Purple face paint brushed from ear to ear and down his cheeks to curl around his jawline and peak at his chin, and his hair and forehead were obscured by his black hood and gleaming foreign hitai-aite.

The nin cocked a brow. Naruto returned it with a sheepish grin. "Who're you again?"

Suna-guy snorted. "Yeah, kinda expected that from a dumbass like you."

"Hey! Who the hell are you callin' a dum—"

"Naruto!" Tsunade barked, though there was an undeniable fondness underlying her tone. "Your opponent's waiting for you outside."

She jabbed a thumb towards one of the windows. Naruto rushed over to the window and pulled it open before half his body leaned over the sill. Left and right he looked until he spotted a silhouette in the shadows beneath some of the building’s overhangs. The figure sat leisurely on the ledge, an orange book in their hands and their legs crossed.

Hatake Kakashi greeted him with crinkled eyes and what was surely a smile beneath his mask. “Yo.”

Before Naruto knew it he was back on that same path towards the old Team Seven training grounds, only this time with Shikamaru and Suna-guy lagging a few steps behind him and Hinata. He could hear Hinata talking strategy once they faced off against their old sensei, but her voice was faint against the thoughts that bounced around in his head. There were so many people he wanted to see and both Hinata and Shikamaru had grown up so much—

"Wait." Naruto spun on his heel, and Shikamaru and Suna-guy stopped before they crashed into him. "Why the hell are you guys hanging out?! You’re  _friends_?!"

Shikamaru heaved a long sigh. "Is that really your first impression of us? Troublesome."

Suna-guy gestured around him vaguely. "It's almost time for the Chuunin Exams, and I've been going back and forth between Suna and Konoha for meetings concerning the event."

"It sucks, but I'm in charge of them this year," Shikamaru added with a bored shrug. "That, and I'd been assigned as the official guide for Suna's Ambassador ever since Kankuro took up the position."

Oh. So his name was Kankuro.

"The Chuunin Exams, huh..."

Memories that dredged Naruto down like quicksand. He thought of Sasuke and all the things he did wrong for him to leave to some bastard like Orochimaru, and of that fight between Neji and Hinata that still left a bitter taste in his mouth whenever it managed to remind him of how useless he'd been watching it from the sidelines.

"Are you going to do something about the Exams?"

Naruto jerked back to himself. "Huh? What do you mean?"

"You're the only one in our year who hasn't become chuunin," Shikamaru said.

A bird cawed as it flew overhead.

" _What_?!" Naruto's voice ricocheted up and down the street as he whipped towards his teammate. Eyes blown wide and frantic at the edges. "Hinata-chan?! You're a  _chuunin_?!"

She blushed. "Y-Yes!"

"Not to mention that this guy here," Shikamaru jabbed his thumb to the side, "his sister Temari, and Hyuuga Neji are already jounin."

Naruto blanched. How was everyone already so far ahead? No, it made sense he was gone for so long but—but  _everyone_?

"G-Gaara!" He blurted, grasping at the straws. There had to be some things that stayed the same, right? Anything! If everything stayed the same and no one changed then maybe Sakura-chan wasn’t— "What about Gaara?!"

"Gaara," Kankuro deadpanned, a single brow cocked. "You’re seriously asking about my little brother, Gaara, The Godaime Kazekage?"

Another bird cawed.

" ** _WHAT?!_** "

:: ::

A sandstorm brewed in a vast desert where two figures traversed all alone. Their black cloaks were adorned with clouds stained blood red and the streams from their conical hats billowed in the gale.

Deidara, the taller of the two, hummed. "So we'll deal with this one before going after the guy we sent to Orochimaru?" He clicked his tongue. "Looks like he turned traitor and leaked some info about us, un."

"It can't be helped," Sasori replied. Wood eyes cut to the bag hanging from his partner's fingers. "You're carrying a measly amount of clay. Has your ego gotten too big or will that really be enough to take on a jinchuuriki?"

"Ah, Danna, you worry too much, hm," he waved off. "I even brought my specialty."

"Specialty or not, if i have to clean up one of your messes again—"

"It'll be  _fine_."

"Tch. Annoying brat."

Sasori watched the desert of his old home, all nothing and stillness in the midst of a ravaging blizzard. He'd never understand why their leader decided  _now_ was the time to up the ante and let the world catch more and more glimpses of the "mysterious Akatsuki", especially when before there had been such an emphasis on silence and subtlety.

Just yesterday, they were only a rumor. But today he was sure they would set forward a domino effect he wasn't sure anyone could stop.

And would it be something he would even want to stop? Well, that certainly was a good question to ask, wasn't it?

"Just do what you came here to do," Sasori sneered. A particularly strong gust cut around them, erasing the footsteps they barely left behind. "And don't keep me waiting."

:: ::

Filth and grime clung onto every centimeter of his body as he trudged through the darkened streets of the village that raised him.

His orange pants were torn and a shallow slash ran down from his shoulder to his elbow, skimming the skin but by now it would've healed completely. The only part left untouched, though, had been the right side of his torso where he kept hold of those neat white envelopes. He probably should've given them to Ero-sennin before fighting Kakashi but—but then he would've had to look into those damn pitying eyes that told him hundreds of times that _'you can't keep holding onto them like you do, Naruto, 'cause chances are that your friend might be dea—'_

"No," Naruto muttered. He stopped at the foot of the metal staircase that marched up to his apartment floor. "No, she's not."

Was she?

His chest burned. He didn't know if he wanted to find out.

"Excuse me," someone spoke up from behind him. "You're blocking the stairs."

He rubbed his watering eyes on his sleeve and shuffled to the side. "Sorry! Sorry, didn't mean to..." His head turned and he was eye level to a neck and clashed a navy tank top, the color striking him with dizzying familiarity. Craning back his neck, his eyes widened with each millisecond he took in a pair of lips, pale cheeks, blue ink, green eyes that never looked at him like a monster and pink hair that framed a face that never left him cold.

"Sakura-chan," he whispered.

Sakura's mouth quirked. "Naruto."

Hinata-chan and Shikamaru hadn't really changed when he saw them. Sure Hinata-chan's hair was longer and Shikamaru started wearing those vests like a lot of the older shinobi in the village, but they still looked like themselves. Not that Sakura-chan looked like a whole other person, but... her hair was so short. She was so tall. She had a face tattoo like gangster, but like a  _cool_ gangster.

"Kotetsu and Izumo-san mentioned you'd come back this morning when I stopped by," she said. Tears pricked at his eyes and his face went numb as he shuffled forward an inch. "I thought you would be gone longer, but it's been over two years, hasn't it? You left for training a few days after my team and I— _oof_."

She was cut short when Naruto flung himself onto her, locking his arms around her torso like a vice and burying his head into her collarbone. She got  _real_ tall and if it was bad before it was definitely worse now, but the tears wouldn't stop coming and all he could think about was how happy he was that Jiraiya was wrong.

Sakura was still for a moment before one arm wrapped around his shoulder and the other one patted the top of his head. It was awkward, but hugs were always awkward with her and he choked on a sob. He wouldn't have to give out late White Letters. He wouldn't have to hold onto them anymore.

"Have you had dinner yet?" she questioned softly. He sniffed and shook his head. "Alright. Get changed and wait for me at your apartment, I'll bring over something you can eat."

He squeezed her tighter before he pulled away. One of his hands knocked into the bandages of her left forearm, and he startled when it made a dull  _thud_ against his knuckles. There was a question on the tip of her tongue that he didn't know how to ask, but quickly thought better of it and shut his mouth.

"Okay," he said. He sniffed again and rubbed his eyes with his palms. "Okay, Sakura-chan."

His hold was still on her when they climbed up the stairs and he only let go when she slipped into her apartment and he fiddled with his keys to push into his. The first thing he noticed was that dust didn't invade his nose—he didn't know anyone who'd come in willingly to clean up all his stuff—and beelined straight into the bathroom for a quick shower.

When he'd scrubbed off all the dirt and sweat that clotted his hair and cemented onto his skin, he stepped over his pile of clothes and nearly tripped over his own feet to step into his room. Most of the clothes he left behind were too small to fit, but a quick dig through his drawers granted him a baggy shirt from Ichiraku Ramen and over-sized gym shorts stretched thin with age.

Naruto doubled back into the bathroom to swipe the plastic baggie from the inside of his jacket and tread down the short hall towards the kitchen.

Sakura was already at the stove heating up something he didn't recognize.

"You were fast," she commented, her back to him as she stirred. "You didn't have to rush. The food's not ready yet."

And Naruto... still didn't really know what to say.

He'd been gone for over two whole years, and that was over two whole years of things he'd have to learn about what he missed. He never got to ask Hinata-chan about the latest news and Kakashi-sensei just about disappeared right after they'd gotten the bells from him in Bell Test The Sequel. Baa-chan had paperwork and Ero-sennin had more than likely gone off to the Red Light District for the night, and all he wanted to do after that back-breaking training session was get back to his apartment and  _sleep_ —well, no, that wasn't true.

He'd wanted to see Sakura-chan ever since he learned that she'd given him White Letters.

"You know... you're kinda terrible, Sakura-chan."

She glanced over her shoulder with a cocked brow before her eyes landed on the envelopes cradled in his hands. Clean and tucked in a plastic bag, she lifted her gaze up to the sad smile on a face that normally shone as bright as the moon.

"Ah, those. I'd almost forgotten."

(She hadn't.)

"You told me to hand them out if anything 'bad' happened and you, you gave them to me knowing that I didn't really know what that meant." His brows furrowed and he clutched tighter onto the letters. "I had to find out 'bout them from Ero-sennin, but that was when we'd been out of the village for a long time already. Why... Why didn't you say anything about what they really were? Why couldn't you just tell me?"

Sakura lowered the fire to a low simmer and turned around. Sometimes he thought that blank face of hers was a curse. "It would have made you upset."

"I was upset anyway when I found out about them!"

"You would've tried to give the envelopes back, but I wanted you to be my keeper for the letters." She sighed. "It was selfish of me."

"Sakura-chan, I don't understand..."

(The words that came from her lips were the first that bubbled to the surface of her mind, thick and heavy with everything she never forgot.)

"It's because I'm not a good person," she said.

_Her father smiles a bitter smile when he bends down to kiss the top of her head and tells her he's not a good man._

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that to you."

But the thing was, Naruto wasn't angry anymore. Hadn't been since about a week after he found out about the letters. And... she was right, wasn't she? If she told him her letters were White Letters in the beginning he  _would've_  shoved them away because he refused to believe that she'd be dying anytime soon.

"No, it's..." He shook his head and walked over to her. "I get it."

His shoulder brushed against hers as he peered into the pot. A thin brown broth bubbled slowly and he spied some chunks of meat, strings of rice noodles, and a healthy handful of all sorts of vegetables. His fingers tugged at his sleeves.

"Hey, Sakura-chan?"

She tipped her head to show she was listening.

"Can you tell me everything I missed?" he questioned shyly. He flashed her a grin to hide his embarrassment. "I never really got the chance to find out much, heh..."

The smile she gave him is her usual one. Small and odd and not something she did often enough.

He missed that. He missed  _her_.

She turned up the fire. "Sure."

Naruto watched her stir for a few moments, eyes tracing the circles she made in the pot. It was her left hand that did it, and his eyes glue to the bandages almost immediately.

"And uh... Sakura-chan?"

"Mm?"

"I don't know why you don't think you're a good person," he murmured. He dragged his eyes away and nudged her side. "You've always been good to me, 'ttebayo."

She hummed, but said nothing else.

(He was back in the village that hated him, but he knew that as long as he had Sakura-chan, he'd be okay.)


	9. What They Should Have Known

" _He's_ been quiet."

Kikai roved about the room in small clusters like a living wallpaper pattern. They crawled into corners and filled cracks, undulating with their hosts' chakra and carefully avoiding the pretty little seals that criss-crossed one another on the expanse of the chipped white ceiling.

Sakura ran a whetstone over her kunai, her left arm thrumming with chakra as she held the gleaming metal up to the light. " _He's_ planning his next move, just as we are. All that it'll come down to is who makes the first one."

"It's bullshit," Kiba huffed. He snaked around the table and the rest of his pack sat around it, jotting down seal reversal ideas and throwing down crumpled wads in frustration. The stolen Forbidden Seals Text was cracked wide open on the countertop, its binding stained with ink. "If I was in the Seals Division I woulda' had access to all the texts I needed right now, and what have we just ended up doin'? Sitting! Just!  _Sitting_!"

"Even if you were in the Seals Division, we would still need information on  _him_. Why? Not much is known and it is crucial to understand our enemy before making any bold statements." Shino paused. He tapped his fingers and watched his colony swirl into a new pattern. " _More_ bold statements, at any rate. I suppose there's nothing more infuriating than seeing us come back time and time again despite his efforts for our elimination."

"We need to do  _something_."

"We need evidence," Sakura countered calmly, twirling the kunai between her steel and wooden fingers. "I know that the longer we wait, the longer we run the risk of something else happening, but there's only so much we can do."

Kiba sighed. "I know, I know. It's just..." He crumpled up another sheet. "Ugh. You guys find out anythin'?"

"There are no hospital records I'd come across that would have any use—I imagine anything related to Orochimaru's lab or its victims has been effectively removed. Granted, the suspension I acquired delays things on my end, but nothing else has turned up," Shino informed them. He tilted his head. "Sakura?"

Her eyes focused on a smudge on the table. "The Godaime isn't like her predecessor. Maybe she doesn't have as many years of experience as the Sandaime, but she's not stupid. The Hokage Library is sealed with extra security, nothing we can get into without having to vacate the village immediately, and I've scoped out all of Konoha top-down. I haven't come across any ROOT headquarters as of yet, but I've located areas of interest that contain secret passageways utilized by upper-division shinobi. Some of these Tenzo-san has mentioned before, but I've made a clear note of all the new ones."

"Sweet. You got a map?"

She plucked a folded piece of paper from underneath her shirt and slid it across the table. Akamaru pushed himself up and set his paws near her stack of nearly sharpened kunai as he leaned over the page. "Memorize, then burn."

"I'm still concerned about  _his_ silence," Shino brought up again as both Kiba and Akamaru pored over the map. He pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eye, exposing the dark shadows sunken in his skin. "We don't know when he'll attack, but when he does I fear we won't be prepared enough for it."

Kiba pushed the map over to his friend before flipping to the next page on his notepad and frowning down at the blank sheet. "It's nice seein' everyone again," he said. "But... you know we didn't come back just for them." His lips twisted into an awful scowl. He didn't think those words would ever stop tasting bitter. "You know we didn't come all the way back ta' this hellhole ta' try and get our lives back."

He thought of his family's tears when he came back from Kumo.

He didn't think he'd ever be strong enough to tell him he wasn't back forever.

Sakura set down the whetstone with a light  _clack_. "Something will snap one way or another, whether  _he_ decides to finally make a move or we finally get the information we need," she said. "We're doing all that we can, and the best we can do is not stop."

Shino and Kiba exchanged solemn glances and Akamaru whined as all four paws dropped back onto the floor.

There was always a choice.

Sometimes they wondered what it would be like if they made the wrong one.

"Alright," Shino nodded. As Kiba resumed his pacing and scribbling, he leaned back in his chair, long black hair spilling messily past his shoulders. "We'll try to find everything we need. Quickly."

He held the map between his fingers and a quick burst of chakra through his nerves consumed it in flames. Ashes spilled into the creases of his palm and drifted on the table.

All around them, kikai crawled and seals burned bright.

:: ::

Dawn barely broke through the horizon as Shikamaru and Kankuro traversed down Konoha's near-empty streets.

Shikamaru yawned, a small tear collecting at the corner of one eye. "You know the whole village is still asleep, right? What's got you up so early?"

"I can't leave Suna unattended for too long, especially with all the preparations we've been making." Kankuro shrugged. "I thought I'd head back as soon as possible."

"Without eating breakfast?"

It took a few seconds for Kankuro to make sure he heard right, and when he was sure he did, he threw his head back and laughed. "Not gonna lie, that's probably the funniest thing you could be concerned about." Glancing up at the blue sky, he completely missed the faint pink rising along the tips of Shikamaru's ears. "But I'll probably stop by a tea house or something on my way back." He nudged the other with an elbow. "What are  _you_ doing up so early? I honestly thought your body doesn't function before noon, and even that's a stretch."

"I'm your guide."

Kankuro laughed again. "Even if it's a pain?"

"It's a mission, isn't it?"

They happened upon the gates where they stopped for a brief moment, Kankuro tilting his head towards Konoha's laziest chuunin. "You know, the next time we'll see each other is during the exams," he said. "Maybe you should try for jounin—you're definitely good enough for it."

"Eh..." Shikamaru rubbed the back of his head. "Sounds troublesome."

Kankuro snorted. "Yeah, maybe." He tugged on the scrolls on his back to test their security before lifting his head in a lazy wave. "See you around, Nara."

. . .

Sometimes he really enjoyed the solace of these Ambassador missions. They let him breathe without the council on his shoulders and it granted him reprieve from all the politics that came with his birthright.

The job also allowed him to meet a lot of interesting people too. Shikamaru was a pretty decent guy, yawns and drowsiness and all. He liked taking naps in fields after cloud watching and playing shogi to pass the time; kelp and mackerel were his favorite foods especially when together, and Kankuro could remember snorting tea up his nose after watching him take accidentally taking a bite of boiled eggs and letting it waterfall down his chin and back onto the table.

It was also pretty cute when—

Kankuro sighed and kneaded the muscles in the back of his neck.  _‘Bad brain. Think about something else.’_

He pulled his arm away and stared down at it as he walked.

Then there was Sakura.

Sakura was… something else. When they crossed paths during their Chuunin Exams and struck up a friendship neither of them were really supposed to have, he didn’t think it would end up anywhere. They were shinobi from different villages with not much in common brought together by mutual intrigue.

She hated her village, he didn’t. He would die for his blood family, there was no blood family for her to die for.

Yet, they’d spent whole nights talking about this and that while he worked on her puppet arm—about movies and favorite foods and the cheapest vegetables to buy each season. After examining her right arm to sketch and replicate the same limb but for her left, he’d learned the earthy brown tattoos were by someplace called the "Catatumbo Penitentiary" and that she hinted her time in Kumo was a little more than just imprisonment. In turn, he told her stories about Gaara’s rise to the Kage position and the few lurking council members who sought to undermine it because they could never trust a jinchuuriki. But they would never blab on each other.

He stayed on her side, she stayed on his. That’s how they worked.

He frowned and rubbed his stomach, feeling a small knot in the center that he couldn’t manage to smooth out. He’d been feeling a bit off since leaving Konoha, and what he initially thought was hunger or stress had traveled up his spine and into his chest to constrict his lungs and heart. Something was off, it had to be, and the more he inched towards his village the worse he started to feel.

Could it be…?

Kankuro straightened as he picked up something in the breeze.

“Ka-Kankuro-san!”

He turned halfway, chakra strings at the tips of his fingers and eyes instantly searching for the source. Only when the three Konohans landed did he relax enough to stop the chakra flow through his hands and crossed his arms as he nodded in greeting.

“Hatake, Hyuuga, Uzumaki,” he greeted. “You guys got a mission or something?”

Before Kakashi or Hinata could even  _think_ of saying anything, Naruto burst forward with both his fists clenched until his knuckles threatened to break skin.

“They took him,” he growled. “The Akatsuki—they took  _Gaara_!”

Kankuro’s heart stilled. “ _What_?”

“We’ll fill you in on the way,” Kakashi said. “Come on, it’s best if we get to Suna as quick as we can.”

Kankuro didn’t need to hear anything more; he and Team Seven immediately sprung through the trees.

"Na-Naruto-kun!" Hinata called out mid-leap. Her teammate had propelled himself forward, a blur of black and orange and blonde as he lurched ahead of their decided kilometer per hour speed. "We need to stay as a unit!"

"But Gaara—"

"Jiraiya-sama told you to not lose your cool, remember?" Kakashi said. "We'll get to Suna as fast as we can."

Kankuro piped up from Kakashi's left. "It'll take us another day and a half before we get there. If Gaara was really taken by the Akatsuki, then no doubt Temari-nee already went after them..."

He grimaced.

Nighttime wrapped around them like a loose shawl as they cut across the forest's darkness. The trees had yet to thin out around them; just another sign of how much distance they had yet to cover before even reaching Wind Country's border. Naruto still hung ahead of the formation despite the chastising, canines minutely sharper as his irises flickered to an unnoticeable red every few minutes before fading back to their usual blues.

"People like me and Gaara..." He ground his teeth. "Tailed beast this, tailed beast that. We never asked to be what we are, and suddenly the Akatsuki comes to tear the demons out of our bodies."

Kankuro blinked. Right, Uzumaki was a jinchuuriki too.

"Gaara is the last person who needs to deal with this," he continued, the Will of Fire burning bright in his gaze. "And I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make sure he won't be in it alone."

Kankuro bit the inside of his cheek. Most of his life he’d been afraid  _of_ Gaara and the trail of blood he left behind him when he went on rampages within the village. He could still remember tip-toeing down the hall past his room that he never slept in and could still feel that same fear he felt when he watched sand crush and churn the bodies of those Gaara every deemed were “in his way.”

It wasn’t too long ago that if he’d heard the news that Gaara could die, he wouldn’t care.

Yet two years later here he was, blood rushing in his ears as he pleaded to the gods that his little brother would still be alive and breathing.

He hoped they weren't already too late.

Silence reigned over the team until the sun rose.

. . .

A day away from their destination, they had soldier pills for breakfast and never faltered in pace.

Hinata pushed a bit further towards the front until she was shoulder to shoulder with her friend. She ignored how the lines on his cheeks were slightly more pronounced and focused instead on his hard glare.

"You've met hi-him before, haven't you? Uchiha Itachi," she mentioned. Naruto snarled. "And he's after you." She glanced over her shoulder to meet Kakashi's surprised stare. "I didn't just train over the past two years. I-I got into Tsunade-shishou's library and conducted outside investigations to the best of my ability." An image of Sasuke flashed to the forefront of her mind, and with it the memory of her trying to stop him from leaving for Naruto's sake only to wake up on a stone bench with an ache in her neck and her reclusive teammate nowhere to be seen. Quieter, she continued. "Sasuke-san only ever wanted to kill his brother, an Akatsuki member, even going the lengths to join Orochimaru for power—a previous member of the Akatsuki."

She steeled her nerves. "What I'm getting at is... the closer we get to Akatsuki and the closer we get to information about Orochimaru, the closer we get to Sasuke-san." She looked back at Naruto and the way he grit his teeth. "Are you prepared for that?"

_When twelve year old Naruto pulled open the door of the hotel room Ero-sennin left him in, a figure clad in a dark cloak loomed over him in the doorway. Red clouds, red eyes, his mind immediately went to Sasuke. But Sasuke wasn't this tall and never made his muscles tense in fear..._

_"Really, who'd think this kid would have the Kyuubi in him?"_

_Another man swept up behind the first one, and Naruto leaned back as sweat dripped down the back of his neck. His skin was this washed up blue and his navy hair slicked up in the shape of a shark-fin. And not only was he ridiculously tall, but his beady black eyes made Naruto shiver._

_"Just a damn kid," the blue guy sighed, a downturn to his lips. "You know I don't kill kids, Itachi-san. You deal with this one."_

"It doesn't matter if I'm prepared for anythin' or not," Naruto growled. "We'll kick these guys' asses and get Sasuke back no matter what!"

:: ::

"You called for me, Tsunade-sama?"

Tsunade stood as she gazed out one of her windows, brow creased and hands folded behind her back. A newspaper with the day's winning lottery numbers laid unfurled on her desk and atop it, a lottery ticket embossed with the exact same numbers. By its side was a ceramic cup cracked beyond relief.

It had been two days since Team Kakashi left for their mission.

"I want to send reinforcements to Suna," she stated bluntly. "The team currently returning from the A-rank I had no choice but to slot them in for—they should be returning soon, shouldn't they?"

Shizune thought back to all the A-ranked missions assigned since the beginning of the month. Most were still active and in the middle of their allotted time, but the team that was due back this afternoon—

"Tsunade-sama," she started uncertainly. "You want to send  _them_? On this mission?"

"You think they're incapable?"

"Not at all, it's just..." Shizune trailed off.

Tsunade turned around. No, her assistant had every right to be concerned. Not too long ago she'd pondered this team and their eccentricities, to put it mildly, and tried to puzzle out just what about them made her so curious.

Their mission streak since returning from their absence was simply  _impeccable_. They took on orders without complaint, and if she factored out Shino's regular insubordination as a village-bound medic and Kiba's odd persistence of seal work and the general conundrum around Sakura, then by all means they might be the most capable, well-rounded squads to perform under her direction.

But the experience they racked up under their belt during her predecessor's tenure had been... concerning. They had more than enough D-ranks to cover the requirement for their enrollment into the Chuunin Exams, but the more she dug into their files the more wary and confused she'd become at all the details that compiled in the calculating mess that was Team Eight.

A majority of their missions had been set outside of Konoha. Not too common, but then again not too strange. But as she perused through the post-mission reports, she noted two red flags.

One, they always seemed to take on the missions that no one wanted. Undesirable missions. The ones that got stuffed at the bottom of the assignment pile simply because no one wanted to do them; the ones that had people averting their eyes or holding down their stomachs because they dealt with the clean-up and dead-ends and always lowered the morale of the shinobi that were slated for them.

Team Eight had twenty-five D-ranks and one C-rank prior to their assignment to their ill-fated B-rank.

Twenty-three of those missions were undesirables.

Tsunade had clawed through each mission report with intense scrutiny after that realization, citing Yuuhi Kurenai's neat hand and the footnotes from the gate guards that signed them back into the village.

And by the Kages, the  _injuries_ they'd all sustained.

Mission twenty-two had them bring in a drug dealer that never showed up to his court date; Kiba suffered chakra exhaustion and a pulled muscle chasing him across Fire Country for sixty-five kilometers straight. Mission eighteen sent them to investigate a domestic abuse case; Sakura had a dislocated and broken jaw from when one of the spouses lost their mind and she'd step in to take the blow. Mission nine told them to disperse a low-end gang war; Shino was put on leave for a week when a gang leader shattered his collarbone with a crowbar. Mission nineteen forced them to search through a landfill for the missing body of a runaway teen; Akamaru had been admitted to a veterinary clinic for an infection caused by a fungus that seemed to concentrate in that area.

Mission twenty-six sent them to follow up on Team Seven's actions in Wave. They were attacked by a group of mercenaries.

Mission five, they dug thirty-three graves for thirty-three dead children.

_Twelve year old genin dug graves for their own._

And Tsunade had been absolutely sickened.  _'Hiruzen-sensei, may you rest in peace, but what was going through that senile old head of yours?!'_

No wonder Hagane and Kamizuki called them Unlucky.

Though perhaps this was the explanation for why they were such able-bodied shinobi, and she truly did believe that if she assigned this S-rank to them, they would be successful.

"It's just that whenever something about Team Eight comes up, you always seem to look at them in an odd light," continued Shizune. "Not in a bad way, but it's as if they confuse you, almost. Maybe that they don't hold your trust?"

"They haven't given me a reason not to trust them," Tsunade said as she slumped into her seat. "They're competent, they listen, they do what they're told without kicking up a fuss." She set her elbow on her arm rest and dropped her chin on her knuckles. "If this mission goes off without a hitch and they receive a glowing report from Kurenai  _and_ Kakashi, I'll reconsider my stance on them. If not, I'll investigate this matter myself."

She waved a hand through the air. "But enough of that. Tell the guards to halt Team Eight at the gates upon their return. I'll give them my orders there and have them set off to Suna immediately."

"Yes, Tsunade-sama!"

:: ::

Kurenai gazed at her kids as they sped through the canopies of the thickets of trees in the diamond formation they'd arranged themselves into. Kiba took to the front and was left to decide the speed and direction the team would take, Shino was directly behind him as attending medic and thus the key element that need the most protection from the formation, her and Akamaru flanked the sides to keep watch on the left and the right respectively, and Sakura brought up the rear as the tank fighter on the team.

_“I’m giving you the same mission I’ve given Team Kakashi,” Tsunade stated as she stood at Konoha’s southern entrance. One hand braced on her hip as she scrutinized each and every member of the team before her. “You will go to Suna and provide back-up for Hatake Kakashi, Hyuuga Hinata, and Uzumaki Naruto against the threat known as the_ Akatsuki _. From there, you will receive the rest of your assignment. Is that understood?”_

_“Yes, Hokage-sama,” Team Eight chorused sharply. Tsunade nodded._

_“Dismissed!_ _”_

_As they leapt into the trees, Kurenai surveyed their current atmosphere. Kiba clicked his tongue once they were far enough away from the gates._

_“Another mission right after our last one? And an S-rank?” He scowled. “At least the pay’s gonna be good. I can finally get that super condensed sealing paper that costs a billion per sheet.”_

_Akamaru barked, a small whine at the end of his tone, and Kiba paused for a moment before he winced, shook his head, and stole a look at their pink-haired packmate. Shino followed their gaze as well with a crease in his brow, but kept his silence._

_Sakura’s face had iced over and she’d pressed her lips together so tightly they’d gone white, and when she acknowledged their concern with a curt wave of her hand_ — _a clear sign for_  ‘later.’

Kurenai glanced over her shoulder at Sakura's blank face, and though to everyone else it might seem like her typical cold facade, she could see the pensive threads streaming through dark green eyes. "You've been thinking about something since Tsunade-sama gave us the mission," she said. "Are you worried?"

Sakura hummed, pink hair brushing against the hitai-ate on her forehead. "I wouldn't call it worry."

"I see. But let me know if there's anything wrong, alright?"

"Yes, sensei."

Kurenai stole a last look at her student. She wore her black pants, blue shirt, and brown pauldrons just as she always did, except this time she wore three of Kiba's seals; one on her leg beneath her kunai pouch, one on her prosthesis under all those bandages, and one on the bottom of her right sandal that had only been there since the short break they took when Kurenai broke off from the rest of the team to run a quick perimeter.

Each seal slip had P E R C E P T I O N written down their lengths, surrounded by other sequences that completely flew over her head.

Her kids said nothing about it, so she would only ask when the mission was over.

A blip of chakra in the distance had Kiba throwing an arm out to halt their movement, and when Akamaru landed on a thick branch and barked twice, he paused before nodding in confirmation.

"Potential ally, mid-low defensive positions," he called out. Sakura grasped the hilt of her katana, Shino's insects surfaced on his skin, Kurenai readied the kunai hidden in her sleeve, and they were silent as they lay in wait.

If others saw their formation, they would turn their noses down at Kurenai for how much control she allowed the rest of her squad to have when she was both of higher rank and the assigned leader for the duration of the mission. But she knew what they were capable of and just what they had to go through to be where they were now—if there was ever a mission that didn't require her direct expertise or was understood thoroughly by one of her kids, she had no problem passing the reins.

Eight never had the chance to learn leadership and strategy that didn't involve escaping something with their lives or their sanity. Their time under the Sandaime was proof enough of that. So where he severely failed, Kurenai sought to teach.

It was what she owed them, in the very least.

A small brown pug landed on a branch across from them a few seconds later.

"Pakkun-san," Kurenai greeted in surprise. She waved down her students. "Low defense, he's one of Kakashi's summons."

"Yeah, hey," the ninken nodded as he observed the group of chuunin. He'd never met them before and heard once or twice in passing that they'd gone MIA for a bit, but his fur prickled at their stillness and the way their gazes never left his. Damn, what a weird group of pups. "Boss directed us—the Eight Ninken—to fan outwards from Suna to track a scent from a scrap of cloth that the Kazekage's sister managed to snag in her fight against one of those Akatsuki. Akasuna no Sasori, I think his name was."

Sakura's grip tightened around her sword as she angled her head just slightly to the side.

"Turns out the scent leads to River Country, bordered between Wind and Fire."

"River?" Kiba repeated. He broke eye contact with the newcomer for the first time to address the rest of his team. "That means..."

"That we're the closest team to the location," Shino said. "Why? River is only an hour from where we are currently."

Pakkun nodded again. "Exactly. Now follow me, I'll explain the details as we run."

He launched himself back towards the way he came, leaving Kiba sputtering in his wake.

"Hey!"

Team Eight leapt after him, all but one unaware of the watcher hidden in the trees.

:: ::

Viscous red chakra leaked into a husk of a mouth, consuming Shukaku in its entirety and sealing it into the belly of the Demonic Statue of the Outer Path. Its shriveled stone body pressed against two whole walls of the summoning arena, and the fourth of all its eyes fought to open. Nine of its outstretched fingers lifted all nine of the currently active Akatsuki members, most of them a rainbow static in the shadows of a barely lit cavern.

Zetsu, poised atop the right little finger, suddenly drew himself back into awareness. "An enemy is nearing the hideout."

"An enemy, hm?"

" ** _Konoha shinobi._**  I recognize one as Yuuhi Kurenai. Three others plus two ninken make up the rest of her team," he continued, yellow eyes sweeping the cavern. "I don't know whether they're particularly strong or not, but they are young. Inexperienced, perhaps.  ** _It should not be too difficult to dispose of them._** "

"Yuuhi Kurenai is an A-rank genjutsu mistress, though I cannot speak for her team—whoever they may be," Itachi spoke from atop the right ring finger. "While she was an adept opponent when I faced her two years ago, neither her nor Sarutobi Asuma had been able to hold their ground against Kisame-san and I."

"The one with the red eyes who isn't an Uchiha," Kisame recalled. He pushed the confusion threatening to scrunch his face even if he knew it wouldn't translate well to his holographic projection. Yuuhi Kurenai, Yuuhi Kurenai... wasn't she Pup's sensei?  _'Shit, don't tell me...'_

Pein's eyes swiveled slowly to the side. The black rings that rippled from the pupils of his gleaming purple eyes were like a beacon in the darkness. "There is no need for direct contact. Use  _that_ jutsu."

"Then let me do it," Hidan bid from the left index finger. "I've been gettin' real fuckin' annoyed at all the shit we haven't been doing, seriously."

"Nah, I'll do it," Kisame offered, perched atop the left ring finger. He suffocated his panic beneath his typical, easy going demeanor. Though it was harder this time when paranoia came back like an old friend, knocking against his rib cage and rattling the muscles in his throat. None of them could see his pup and maybe  _if_ Zetsu had been too far to see that it'd been her, if she was there, he couldn't risk anyone else finding out she was alive. "I've got a thing against Konoha shinobi. No offense, Itachi-san."

From upon the right middle finger, Konan's face remained apathetic even as her heart softened.

"... The jutsu is more suited to someone like you, Kisame. You have the greatest chakra reserves among us," Pein decided. He fell into a brief, considering silence. "Even so, the jutsu will require thirty percent of your chakra that will need to be dispatched immediately."

"Heh. Fine by me."

_'Please don't let her be there.'_

:: ::

The terrain grew into a rocky thing covered in hills of stone and sunk deep grooves underfoot from years and years of weathering. Dust kicked off the path they ran, and Kiba hated the potential attention they could attract from it. There was no one around for hours, probably, and there were barely any shadows to keep to as the burning sun crashed down onto their shoulders.

"Someone slap some sunscreen on Sakura, she's gonna be a lobster by the time we're outta here," Kiba ribbed. He stuck his tongue out when Sakura raised a brow in his direction.

"Lobster is a rich source of copper and selenium," Shino commented. "Though I don't favor it. Why? Crab is virtually the same crustacean and tastes much better."

"They're not the sa— _Shino_. You can't just say shit like that. If crab and lobster were the same thing it'd be crab and crab or lobster and lobster, not crab and lobster."

"Seafood is seafood, but crab is cheaper," said Sakura. "The price for a kilogram of the lowest running crab meat is equivalent to up to ten bottles of sunscreen, depending on the brand."

"The hell are you gonna do with ten bottles of sunscreen?"

"Not become a lobster, apparently."

Up front, Kurenai covered her mouth to hide her laugh and Pakkun snorted. Akamaru snuffled his own chuckle before his nose twitched and his great white head angled upward. He barked lowly, causing both Pakkun and Kiba to skid to a stop.

"How many?" Kiba asked. Another bark. "One?"

Then—

"Back!"

The earth trembled as something bandaged—was it a pole, a sword, a staff, a weapon—burst from the ground and zig-zagged towards them at the speed of a thrown kunai.

Five seconds from the mark and Sakura's katana was out of its sheath, four seconds from the mark she recognized that beneath the bandages was a blade, three seconds from the mark their opponent's chakra washed over her like a hurricane and its familiarity staked her through the heart but it’s cold and detached and  _wrong_ , two seconds from the mark the skin of her right arm crept blue-gray and the rest of the team scattered to dodge the impact, one second from the mark she deactivated the perception seals all over her body.

She locked her left arm behind her katana and poised it above her as the blade rained down.

The impact split the ground but not her bones, and she let her skin fade to its normal hue as dust collected around them. Driving her strength left, she pushed  _Samehada_ off and launched herself to Kiba's side.

"What do you smell on him?" she asked as the dust cloud slowly began to dissipate. Her mouth was still and he had to strain to hear her words.

"Sand. Lots of it," he replied, just as quiet. "Seems like he's been out for a while. Lotsa' dirt and smoke—smells like he's just had a lunch full a' red meat. Camel? I got a pretty good whiff of it when Shino made thenthuk, but this one's fresher." He glanced up at her just in time to see her eyes darken considerably. "Why?"

"Dad's been a pescatarian even before I was born," she said, and Kiba blanched as he snapped back to the settling dust and the figure standing in its midst. "I don't see a reason why he'd stop now."

'Hoshigaki Kisame' poised himself in his own destruction, and when Sakura met his gaze and failed to spot even a spark of recognition, she reactivated the Perception seals.

_"You don't wanna be recognized, huh?"_

_"If we're dealing with the Akatsuki, then it's best if I'm hidden from them. A henge would require too much chakra to maintain and a genjutsu would divide my focus. Do you know any seals that can hide my appearance?"_

_Kiba gripped his chin. "Well, there's Perception seals. Basically, you'll still be you with the same height, clothes, weapons, and stuff, but it changes other things like voice, eye color, hair color. But only for those who don't already know what you look and sound like."_

_"Then what will strangers see when they look at her?" Shino questioned._

_"Eh, it's all about perception," Kiba shrugged. "They'll see whatever they expect to see. And if they don’t know or expect Sakura, then they won’t see her at all."_

"So it's not him."

Sakura sunk into a defensive stance. "No. It's not."

Shino listened to the insects that lingered near his ears and pulsed the most minuscule of chakra flashes that relayed the noise input received from the insects residing on his teammates. The words  _Dad_ and  _it's not him_  rang clear in his mind as he stared down the impostor.

"So this is the Akatsuki," he murmured aloud. Loud enough for pack to listen and definitely loud enough for Pakkun to catch.

'Kisame' chuckled.

'Samehada' hurled into the air and blue hands slapped together into a single snake seal. " _Suiton: Bakusui Shouha_!"

Water erupted from his mouth like a geyser. The rocky terrain was suddenly thin slabs of stone in the middle of an ocean from the rushing water of a never ending waterfall that propelled 'Kisame' meters above them. It was a testament to his chakra reserves with how he'd single-handedly curtailed the battlefield in his favor, and he laughed as he glided down the watery hill of his creation with a blade in his hand and a thirst for blood on this tongue.

Team Eight bounded into the air as the waves rushed beneath them, but as they landed on some of the breaching rocks, behind them one-two-three giant waves ascended towards the skies before surging back down over their heads.

"What the fuck's this, the Aquatic Center on steroids?!" Kiba snarled, landing on a half-submerged boulder.

"The amount of water that appears has an exponential equivalent to the amount of chakra allocated for the jutsu," Sakura said as she landed on a rock downstream of him. "Hoshigaki Kisame is notorious for his large chakra reserves."

Kurenai's gaze flickered all around them. Their opponent was nowhere to be seen, lost in the choppy waters that licked at their feet. Oceans and mountains all on the same playing field... well, there were worse predicaments to be in.

Another wave shot in from the left and they all pushed themselves into the air again. This wave was much bigger and streaked past only a foot or so from the bottoms of their sandals. 'Kisame' appeared from the water and swung down. Dodge, swung to the side, dodge; Kurenai swiped her leg through his head only for her sandals to soak and droplets to splash against her knees.

"Water clone," she bit. The physical 'Kisame' emerged from his dispersed clone and swung down again.

Swing, dodge. Swing, dodge. Swing, dodge.

She wasn't in any position to move onto the offensive with how far up in the air they were, but the movement at the corner of her eyes was enough of a signal to spin out of range as best she could.

"Sakura!" she barked.

'Kisame' twisted his head to see the end result of two of the kids launching the third by grasping her sandals and throwing her forward. The girl slammed her foot against his hand, forcing him to drop 'Samehada', and slashed her katana.

It nicked his throat. He let himself fall towards calmer waters.

He touched down without much of a splash, but so did Kiba and Akamaru.

" _GATSUUGA_!"

The twin tornado attack sent him flying backwards into the direction of his careening blade. 'Samehada' was in his grasp once more and he slammed the tip into the water to slow his momentum, whipping it back in front of him to block the barrage of kunai aimed his way.

Each one was attached to an explosive tag.

'Kisame' escaped into the water as smoke and fire spewed on the battlefield.

"Elusive," Shino noted as everything around them stilled once more. Kurenai and Sakura landed beside him and Kiba backtracked to their location. "Pakkun-san is watching from a distance; he believed that he would only be in our way."

"That's probably for the best," Kurenai agreed. Akamaru's head jerked somewhere ahead of them, spitting and guttural.

"Y'all are kinda annoying, aren't you?" 'Kisame' scoffed as he rose out of the water. "It's so bothersome... but hey, what can you do? I'll enjoy tearing all of you apart into microscopic  _pieces_."

Sakura almost allowed her lips to tug up into an incredulous smile. Microscopic pieces?  _'Definitely not him.'_

"We'll play this one by ear," Kiba murmured to the rest of the team. "Watch his steps, catch him off, let the rest of him spill into the water." He never broke eye contact with their enemy who eyed them with thinly veiled amusement. "Che. Didn't even get the chance to roll up my pants so they wouldn't get wet." A ripple of chuckles spread across the team. "Any suggestions?"

"Rip his arms off so he can't use his sword," Sakura offered.

"When it didn't work with you?"

"Well," she started, dipping into another sword stance that Bee once made her hold for twenty-four full hours, "not everyone can be me."

"Do you think you'll get me off guard that easily?" 'Kisame shifted 'Samehada' on his shoulder. "I'll be quick to change your mind."

Shino held his arms out in invitation. "I suppose this is a moment where we would reply, ' _do your worst.'_ "

Kurenai hung near the back of their current formation, her hands blurring in a flurry of her hand seals and both her chakra and focus locked onto 'Kisame.' He'd been so easily caught in one of her genjutsu last time that it was bound to work again; at the completion of the final seal, Kiba sprinted forward with his teeth bare and nails sharp.

'Kisame' stood frozen as the illusion washed over him. But before Kiba could make contact, he jerked and moved his sword to block the strike. The teen flipped back as Sakura descended from above. He locked her first kick and her second but the third he expected to come in from the right but it crossed in from the left, nailing him in the side where her left arm punched him clean across the face.

It was too hard to be a human hand and he felt the  _chip chip chip_ of his cracking jaw.

She widened the gap between them as Kiba lunged forward while Akamaru was relentless in trying to rip chunks out of 'Kisame's' legs. There was a faint hum in the air as Shino and Kurenai slunk around to their opponent's blind sides—not that there were many of them—and watched the bombardment of three on one.

Kikai poured out of Shino's sleeves and mouth and the holes that tore open in his scarred skin and he fanned them out to run the perimeter with strict direction to keep away from the chakra-generated water.  _Check for anything notable,_  he ordered them.  _Anything off. Anyone hiding._

Kurenai searched for an opening through the constant storm of taijutsu Sakura and Kiba inflicted on 'Kisame' to keep his hands busy and prevent him from performing another jutsu. She could thread another genjutsu in without catching her kids in it if she was careful enough, but it needed to have the perfect timing. He'd broken through her first one quickly. Too quickly.

Sakura threw a right hook that 'Kisame' caught with his free hand. The force he used to grip her knuckles was enough to crack her bones, and when she yanked back he was tugged forward with her.

Her left leg rose to slam into his face. He leaned back to dodge and her leg crested around 'Samehada's' hilt, tearing it away from Kisame's grip.

"Now!" she snapped. Kurenai shot out a genjutsu as she, Akamaru, Kiba, and Shino boxed in around 'Kisame' to slap down matching seals atop the bumbling waters. Water seeped into the paper but the ink didn't bleed, and the purple glow it emitted shivered and writhed as a border of lavender light walled him in.

By the time 'Kisame' broke the genjutsu's hold, there was nowhere for him to go.

"What the hell..." he muttered.

The barrier around him was... off. Uneven. Erratic. The chakra that circuited was thrown around at random intervals and made it near impossible to detect the pattern in the currents running through it. And no pattern meant no gaps to break through.

"Like it?" Kiba grinned as he stepped back to observe his handiwork, his neck and forehead slick with sweat with the amount of chakra he poured into it. His grin widened when 'Kisame' slammed a fist against one wall and nothing changed. "Took me a hot minute ta' figure out how to make that pain-in-the-ass sequence linker without the whole thing fallin' apart the minute it activated. Keeps you in, but doesn't keep us out. You're trapped." He glanced over at Sakura and wiggled his eyebrows. "Like a lobster in a cage."

She snorted as he held 'Samehada's' hilt in a loose, one-handed grip. It wriggled, waiting for her choice, and she was almost too afraid to give it her answer.

"Kiba," Kurenai warned. "Let's deal with this first. Once we complete this mission, I'll take you all to get lobster.  _Or_ crab," she added when Shino opened his mouth. He shut it and nodded, appeased.

"You think you've won?" 'Kisame' spat as his burning gaze raked them all over. "You catch me in a fancy seal and think that you've caught me? I'll overload your whole damn circuit and gut you first, dog boy."

"Heh." Kiba's face darkened as they drifted up to meet his, yet that grin is unmoving. It was a face indifferent to threat and hazard, and maybe 'Kisame' had walked into this battle under severe underestimation. "I wouldn't worry 'bout that, Hoshigaki," he drawled. "Overload only works after five minutes minimum even with your reserves, which—huh, looks like you've never had full in the first place. We've been talkin' for over a minute, you've got less than four left." The ninken sat atop the water with a face blank as stone and dark eyes unwavering. "You won't last that long."

'Kisame' snarled, but stopped as Sakura walked forward.

" _Shouten no Jutsu_ , right? The Shapeshifting Technique. I've seen it once or twice," she said. "It makes sense. You allocate thirty, forty percent of an individual's chakra to a living human sacrifice. The sacrifice becomes an identical copy, complete with perfect imitations of any kekkai genkai or unique weapon, and the original controls their copy remotely. There are multiple drawbacks to that technique on the original's end, though. Do you know what they are?"

He was silent. She continued.

"Even if the real Hoshigaki Kisame is controlling you, and even if the real Hoshigaki Kisame is listening to my words, he can't see everything. He won't recall my voice. He sees and knows enough to pinpoint enemies and dodge attacks, but he can't see the colors of their shirts or note the shape of their eyes. Defining characteristics are blurred, and that's what makes this jutsu too flawed to use as reconnaissance."

'Kisame's' eyes dropped to her right hand on the hilt of her blade; he could  _feel_ her hesitance in wielding it properly. "... And the sacrifice dies along with the end of the jutsu."

She tipped her head. "And the sacrifice dies along with the end of the jutsu."

'Kisame' scoffed and shook his head and raised his eyes to meet his killer's. "Get on with it, then," he said. "I know when I've been had, and I don't need pity from some baby Konohans who got lucky."

"Minute and a half," Kiba announced as he took a step back. The rest of the team followed suit, and the purple barrier shuttered in static and electricity as Sakura's right foot slid back into position.

Her right hand tightened around the top of the hilt and her left came to grasp the bottom as she swung the enormous sword over her shoulder.

Dark blue-purple spikes flared like gnarled thorns and pierced through both her hands. The left she was lucky would only result in scraped metal and splintered wood, but the right gushed blood that dripped down the hilt and into the water beneath her feet.

Shino's hand shot forward. "Sakura—!"

"What do they call you?" she asked. She ignored the pain and Shino's alarm and Kurenai's shock and Kiba's worry and Akamaru's fear and stared straight into the eyes of the man captured in seals.

The corner of 'Kisame's' mouth curved as the hilt shoved more thorns into her flesh, through her flesh, past her flesh. She never flinched. "Mukade."

Sakura nodded, tightened her grip even when her right hand became a mangled mass of red and muscle, and swung.

He didn't dodge.

(Nor would he, even if he could.)

:: ::

In the far reaches of a secluded clearing near Takigakure, the real Hoshigaki Kisame opened his eyes with a stifled gasp. Beside him, Itachi was still caught controlling the  _Shouten_ in his fight against the Kyuubi boy and the rest of his lackeys, but his own fight... Zetsu had been right about Yuuhi Kurenai, three others, and the two ninken.

Through his murky recollection of the battle, he assigned the oldest sounding voice as Yuuhi. Some of the others' had their names spoken aloud at some points, namely  _Kiba_ and  _Sakura_ , solidifying his fears. Pup's team. One of the ninken was gargantuan and the last of them—it had to be  _Shino_ —charged the battlefield with such an incessant buzzing that it had to be the Aburame bugs.

Though the one thing he remembered most vividly—

_Hands bloody and weeping in the wake of Samehada's rejection._

He sighed, long and suffering, as he brought up a hand to rub at his stinging eyes.

_'Pup,'_ he thought somberly.  _'What were you trying to...?'_

He sighed again and waited for his partner to complete the jutsu.

Morbidly, he wonders if she ever noticed her old red ribbon tied near the pommel under all that she bled.


	10. Reputation

Pakkun... didn't know what to think.

He was relieved their enemy had only been some sort of clone and they hadn't faced off against the _real_ Hoshigaki Kisame, but he... well, first of all, he had to commend their teamwork; seamless even though he thought it was a bit weird that Yuuhi hadn't taken command. Second, the _Inuzuka_ brat made that seal? Seriously? A complex four-pronged barrier that spazzed like water on hot oil but held up like an iron coffin? It shouldn't have been possible from a pup like him.

And weren't all of Yuuhi's kids still chuunin?

He hurried back over to the team as color bled from the corpse and the terrain ran dry, blue shifting to tan and the body shrinking in size. Navy hair diffused to muddy brown and the face of the dead man wasn't one that Pakkun recognized; a Suna-nin that aligned himself against his own village. 

Wasn't that a thought?

As the jutsu shed off like a snake skin, the Samehada replicate crumpled into shapeless pieces. Sakura’s torn mess of a hand was more visible now, dripping blood and caked with flecks of dirt. Her face was blank as she raised it to inspect the damage—unfeeling. Unconcerned.

Her left hand hung at her side and through the torn bandages, Pakkun saw cracked wood and the sheen of dark metal.

_'Damn.'_

Shino's brow creased as he observed his friend and Pakkun thought he was settling the shock that surely had to be thrumming in his veins, but the boy took one step forward and absolutely _smacked_ the back of Sakura's head.

"What have I told you about placing yourself in avoidable situations? Hm? I would like to think that injury may be avoided with a modicum of common sense but your hand is falling out of itself. Your medical file is not getting any _smaller,_ and I would like for it not to grow as fast as it is."

"Ow."

"'Ow,' she says," he grumbled, and Kiba fought off a snicker as he crouched to search the dead body. Shino held out one of his hands and Sakura placed her mauled appendage on it without question, his chakra lighting up a bright mint green as he began to repair the damage. "I give another lecture on her severe lack of self preservation and she responds with _ow_."

Kiba upends the kunai pouch from Mukade's leg. "She doesn't wear sunscreen, she doesn't listen ta' rules. It's a vicious cycle."

Akamaru woofed.

"See? He gets me."

"A miracle," Shino remarked dryly.

Kurenai peered over the healing with a worry that reminded Pakkun of his own mother before she helped Kiba bury the body—wait, bury the body?

"What are you doing?" he questioned as he padded over to the makeshift grave they'd begun to sow into the earth. "Mukade, or whoever he is, was, tried to kill you all and you're _burying_ his body?"

He missed the look Sakura and Shino shared behind him and when Kiba said nothing as he upturned dirt, Kurenai smiled at the ninken summon. It was a smile that was more tired than it should be, but not one that tried to hide discomfort. It was open and fatigued and resigned and as she helped lower the corpse into dirt, her eyes shadowed with something he couldn't quite pick out.

(He didn't like it.)

"This has become a... ritual, of sorts," she explained softly. "To bury the bodies of anyone caught in the crossfire and all enemies that end up dying by our hands. It's more out of respect than anything else, really."

Pakkun tilted his head. He could understand that. The jobs shinobi did were never easy and it wasn't unusual to see different teams finding different ways to cope. Boss, he knew, liked to read the first few books of his favorite Icha Icha series after particularly rough missions. The same three books he read forwards and backwards in the darkness of his own apartment, eyes skimming over the familiar words after he washed his hands for hours at the kitchen sink.

So yeah. Everyone had their own thing. It was just a little weird to see a bunch of pups pick this one up.

"Why not take the body to study?" he asked. Especially if they were comfortable enough to scavenge and bury them. "You could probably learn a lot more from him."

Shino shrugged a shoulder. "What is there to study? Everything we needed from him we gathered from when he was living."

"Which is safe to say that his goal was to delay us and gather information," Sakura said. She flexed her newly healed hand still fresh with pink skin. "We'll increase our speed to make up for lost time. Kiba? Sensei?"

"We're good," Kiba said, glancing at Shino. "Your kikai?"

"Searching," the Aburame replied simply as he turned the direction toward River. They were already falling back into the formation Pakkun first found them in, and once Kiba was back to the head of the team, he grinned down at the pug.

"Ready?" he prompted.

Pakkun turned around. He wished Boss had warned him about how weird Yuuhi's team was. "Let's move out."

:: ::

"Zetsu," Pein said as he turned his head, the fade of his jutsu finally reaching his senses. "Those two should have shape-shifted back into their original forms. Dispose of them."

" **_Understood_ **."

"Itachi," he continued. "I know the jutsu clouds your perception and erases visual recognition and other similar stimuli, but is there anything you can confirm of our enemies?"

"They're a four man squad consisting of Hatake Kakashi, Hyuuga Hinata, Kyuubi Jinchuuriki Uzumaki Naruto of Konoha, and Chiyo, an advisor from Suna."

Sasori narrowed his eyes.

"I see. And Kisame?"

"Ah, Zetsu-san was right about it being Yuuhi Kurenai, but I don't know the names of her teammates," Kisame lied. There was power in being one of the older members; he was never at the end of suspicion and no one ever thought he would have any outside motive. "I know one was a medic, one was probably an Inuzuka proficient in seals, and the last was a swordswoman that ended up killing the clone."

Pein tipped his head. "Hm. The team with the jinchuuriki takes priority. Any other back-up will be dealt with when the time comes."

Kisame closed his eyes. Hopefully that meant Sakura wouldn't get into trouble anytime soon.

:: ::

A red torii gate stood poised before a boulder with a single seal that read _Forbidden_ on its face. Rushing waters of a river ran beneath their feet and after a night's rest to replenish their chakra, they'd made it to the heart of River Country with little fanfare and dirt scuffing the sides of their sandals.

"So this is the place, huh," Kurenai murmured.

"The Kazekage is on the other side of this boulder," Pakkun informed them from his perch on one of Kiba's shoulders. "But it looks like they put up a barrier."

"Definitely a barrier," Kiba confirmed as he walked closer. He considered the sequence for a few moments before he caught a whiff of a few scents entering the general vicinity. The rest of his team seemed to have noticed too, the way they moved to angle themselves to cover each other's blindspots; Shino at Kiba's, Sakura and Kurenai's at each other's, Akamaru silently weaving around their legs with his lips pulled back in a subtle snarl.

Sakura deactivated her Perception seals.

Kurenai's flickered in recognition the closer the strangers drew. "Kakashi. You're late."

"Maa, well you see..." Kakashi landed on the river followed by the rest of his current team. "We got caught up in something troublesome along the way."

"By troublesome you certainly don't mean me, do you?" the old woman with them tittered. By her form of dress she clearly hailed from Suna, all heavy robes and neutral colors, and her gray hair was held back by a simple brown headband.

"Do we have a plan?" Kurenai questioned as she approached them. Her and the other upper-level shinobi clustered together as they talked amongst themselves, leaving the rest of their teams to fall together not too far away.

But the quick hand signal Kurenai made behind her back that both Naruto and Hinata failed to catch had Akamaru close to her heels, ears open and ready to report what he overhears to the rest of his pack.

"Hyuuga-san, Naruto-san," Shino greeted politely. Hinata quickly returned the hello but Naruto—red eyes and slit pupils and darkened whiskers and protruding fangs—nodded once before he passed them by to stare at the boulder as his nails drew blood from his palms.

"He's been ra-rather upset these past few days," Hinata murmured in way of explanation, her lips touching downwards. "I know it's been hard on him, but..."

Sakura eyed the back of Naruto's head before she strode up to his side. She cast the boulder a short glance and met Kiba's eyes once before the latter pulled out a small notepad from the inside of his jacket to begin deciphering the seals that blocked them from meeting the Akatsuki.

"They have him in there, don't they?" Naruto seethed. "Those bastards dragged him all the way here because of his—the _Ichibi_."

She'd never seen him this angry before. She'd seen him pout when he couldn't get Ichiraku's and heard him whine when she made him eat two whole servings of vegetables, but she'd never seen an unbridled fury in his eyes that pieces of the Kyuubi began leaking through.

But... she supposed that wasn't quite true. She'd seen that rage once. Felt its burning, screaming claws tear through her down to the muscle that took all of what Shino and Kiba had to pick those melted pieces from her charred flesh—but that was the Kyuubi, not Naruto, and she knew very well there was a difference.

"Don't charge in without thinking," she said. "I know you're angry and you have every right to be, but you'll never be able to make proper decisions without at least some clarity." No response. She turned her head. "Naruto. Look at me."

There was a beat before pulsing red irises met her, flinching slightly when they landed on her old scars. "But Sakura-chan, they have—"

"I know," she answered. "But you'll get him back, won't you?"

The red quivered and melted and Naruto's eyes were _his_ again. The marks on his cheeks were still more pronounced and some of his teeth were a little too sharp, but he managed to ease himself down. 

"Yeah. I will."

"Hinata." Kakashi walked forward as he, Chiyo, and Kurenai broke from their discussion to rejoin their teams. "Can you look through the boulder and tell us what you see?"

Hinata nodded firmly before thick veins shifted and pushed outward from beneath her skin. Along her cheeks and her cheekbones and all around her socket those veins pulsed, pupil-less eyes flickering all around the boulder. "There's a large cavern inside, but I can't see what's going on too clearly. There appears to be several people inside—"

"And Gaara?" Naruto demanded. "What about Gaara?"

"I-I'm looking, I..." she drifted off. She was silent as she searched with those flittering eyes, but once her byakugan faded, she turned to the rest of them. "Gaara-sama is in there, but-but it's hard to explain in words..."

"Then that means we have to look in there ourselves," Sakura said.

"Until we can get rid of that barrier, no one's gettin' through nothin'," Kiba told them as he wrote a last note and shut his notebook with a light _snap_ . "It's a Five Seal Barrier. There's five separate tags in five separate locations, all with the kanji for _Forbidden_ on 'em. One's here in front of us, four are somewhere else, prob'ly hidden under trees or between rocks where they're hidden, not smushed." He tucked the notebook back into his jacket. "Luckily, the range can't be that big. Unluckily, the only way ta' deactivate it is ta' remove all five seals at the exact same time. Wrong timing means the defense mechanism activates, whatever it is."

Kakashi observed the chuunin appraisingly, his lone eye cool and dark. "That's... surprisingly astute of you, Inuzuka-kun." And odd, and suspicious, and astounding all at once. "I think you're right on the mark."

Chiyo tipped her head. "And what would you say the range is, boy?"

"No more than a kilometer," he shrugged, a grin lighting up his face. "Think you can find them, Hyuuga-san?"

She nodded, her byakugan reactivating after she returned a small smile. "I see... one on a boulder five-hundred meters Northeast. Second on a trunk of a tree growing along a riverbank three-hundred-fifty meters South-Southeast. Third on a cliff six-hundred-fifty meters Northwest. Last is on a tree in a forest just a little less than eight-hundred meters Southwest."

Kurenai ran a cursory look at all the available shinobi. There was no doubt that her team was expected to be the ones to hunt down those barriers and pry off the seals for Kakashi's team to engage with the Akatsuki. But while she understood the nature of the mission, that didn't stop her from wanting one of her own team in the midst of that knowledge to relay back anything the reports might redact or forget to acknowledge.

(Some part of her keeps thinking that she'd grown too paranoid.)

Her gaze drifted to her fellow jounin. "Kakashi, would it be viable to switch Hyuuga-san's and Sakura's positions for this portion of the mission?" All heads snapped to her. "While I have no issues with Sakura's tracking skills, Hyuuga-san's possession of the byakugan can lead us to the seals quicker with more accuracy," she explained. Though it would mess up the team dynamic...

"Hm. You have a point," Kakashi considered. "Hinata? Do you mind going along with Kurenai's team for this bit?"

"N-Not at all, sensei!" Hinata exclaimed. Her pale eyes glow with spirit, and maybe her being on Naruto's team for so long had made her too sincere. "I'll gladly go where my skills can be utilized best!"

"It's settled, then."

Kurenai reached into her pack to hand out the wireless radios and earpieces. "Kiba and Akamaru, head for the southwest forest. Shino, the northwest cliffside. Hyuuga-san, the south-southeast riverbank. I'll head for the northeast boulder." She handed the last set to Kakashi who wound it around his neck with ease. "We'll check in when we all reach our positions."

She met Sakura's eyes and nodded slightly. No words were needed—there was a job to do here, and they needed to do it well if Tsunade decided to suddenly put them in on this mission when she could have picked quite literally _anyone_ else.

Akamaru nuzzled Sakura's hand and she gave both Kiba's and Shino's shoulders a squeeze before they bounded off towards their assigned locations. They could take care of themselves just fine and if anything were to happen, she'd send a signal through the three kikai crawling just beneath the shadow of her hair.

"Sakura-chan!" She blinked and turned to face Naruto, who stood next to his sensei. Even more of his anger had receded and some of that cloudiness passed from his eyes, and maybe some anxiety finally came to beat back his rage and instill a sort of restless energy. "This is our first mission together, huh?"

"Hm. I guess it is," she replied, smiling a tad at his sunny face. Her expression dropped back into its neutral apathy when she felt Kakashi's gaze on one shoulder and Chiyo's on the other, but didn't turn to acknowledge them.

"Is this your first S-rank?"

She nodded. "We had just completed an A-rank before we were assigned as your back-up." And Naruto pouted, because all he'd ever taken were D-ranks and that one C gone awry before going off to travel with Jiraiya. "You'll pass any exams you decide to take. Don't worry."

He grinned.

Another voice called out from somewhere above her. "You and the rest of Kurenai's team are chuunin, right, Sakura-san?"

She glanced behind her. Kakashi stuck himself right above the boulder's seal, his chakra-laden feet on either side of it. 

"Yes, Kakashi-senpai."

"Hmm. And what was a team of mostly chuunin doing on an A-rank?"

"There was no other team or suitable jounin to take on the mission," she responded smoothly as her mind burned through everything she knew about Hatake Kakashi and just how curious he'd looked when Kiba spoke about the seals. She hid the challenge that would have been in her eyes if she were a lesser shinobi and donned her usual blank stare. "We were available, and we were assigned."

Kakashi hummed again. "I see." His eye crinkled. "You and Naruto seem close."

"Of course we're close!" Naruto huffed as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Sakura-chan's my best friend, 'ttebayo!"

"Ah, really? I didn't know you knew each other so well, Sakura-san."

"What is this, an inquisition on the girl?" Chiyo harrumphed. She hobbled closer, but not before throwing the stink-eye at the White Fang's son. He responded with an even deeper crinkle of his eyes. "Che." She turned to the newcomer of the team—tall and pink and cold and nothing like the sweet, shy little Hyuuga—and lingered her gaze on the ink on her cheekbone. "I have not made my introduction. I am Chiyo; retired counselor and on-and-off advisor to the current cabinet. As annoying as they may be," she added mulishly.

Sakura tipped her head. "It's nice to meet you, Chiyo-sama." She offered a polite bow. "Sakura. No surname."

"And now that everyone is suitably introduced, let's talk strategy, shall we?" said Kakashi. "The plan is to remove the seals and break into the cavern; once the seal is ripped off this boulder and at the four other secondary locations, it will need to be destroyed immediately and followed up with the buttonhook entry technique. Naruto will destroy the boulder with his rasengan. Chiyo and Sakura will wait at opposite sides of the opening to charge in first once that opening is made. Is that clear?"

Chiyo took her position. "I understand."

Sakura followed. "Yes, Kakashi-senpai."

Naruto created a clone and readied himself to concentrate his chakra into his palms. "Ready when you are!"

Kakashi pressed two fingers on the radio in his ear and waited. After a few minutes, he held onto the corner of the seal. "One my count of three," he said. "One!"

Chiyo's eyes flitted to the girl across from her.

"Two!"

Sakura's left hand made a move to reach for the pack on her back hip, but instead her fingers curled into an activation seal.

"Three!"

The Perception seals activate when the _Forbidden_ seals break, and Chiyo thought she might have seen more than she was supposed to.

:: ::

Kiba noted three distinct details of the seal barrier they were sent to deactivate.

One, there were more than four seals that anchored the technique, denoting the high complexity level and warned of the possibility of multiple defense mechanisms activating upon removal.

Two, there were more than two sequences layered atop one another; three to be precise. Three sequences equalled two defense mechanisms that relied on two different factors upon deactivation, which could have been anything.

Three, the distance between all seals were within two-hundred meters to one kilometer and created a pentagonal shape with almost identical sides. According to the theory of sacred geometry, the pentagon was the symbol of human perfection and symbolized 'the aspiration to the sublime'. A world view. Stability.

And relating the third point back to the second, it was clear that the shape of choice would bear reflection to the consequence. Removing the five seals in unity nullified the first defense mechanism, probably an explosion or a rain of weapons. But the second mechanism was trickier. More thought out. And if it were to bear a reflection of the aspiration to be a better good...

He wouldn't be surprised if five human bodies were used as a sacrifice to increase the barrier's proficiency.

Kiba pressed his button on the radio. "Before you take the seals off, stay _calm_. Be as damn weak as you can the moment you pry that seal off. Fill yourself with fear, think you're nothin', act like the biggest Academy student that doesn't know what the hell they're doin'."

Hinata's confused voice filtered through the radio. "I-I don't...?"

"Try your best," he stated firmly as his fingers hovered over the corner of the paper sheet. "Seals work on intent, If you don't intend to have a bad fight, then you're in for a hell of a time."

:: ::

When part of the cavern wall crumbled to bits and four bodies slipped through, Sasori was pleased to note that Uchiha Itachi was _wrong_.

There was Sharingan Kakashi, a blond boy he assumed was the Kyuubi container, and Chiyo-baa all accounted for.

But the girl? Most definitely not a Hyuuga. Her clothes were plain black and her hair a dull, mousy brown pulled up in a high ponytail. She had the most commonly-shaped dark eyes, a thin mouth, a round face, a simple kunai pouch around one leg. A katana hung at her waist and some sort of baton was strapped to her back and stuck out over her shoulder. Simple. Ordinary. Bland. She was nothing noteworthy—

Sasori blinked from inside Hiruko.

_Nothing_ noteworthy?

Well, now. The girl looked like the plainest conceivable kunoichi one could pluck from Sunagakure's midst, but he knew his old village would never send a no-name on such a high-stakes mission.

"Now, which one of you is the jinchuuriki, hm?" Deidara drawled with an edge to his smirk. He lounged on Gaara's body, uncaring of his blatant disrespect.

Naruto's eyes exploded in red as his nails sharpened like daggers and his whiskers dug dark grooves into his face. " _I'll kill you_!" he snarled. "I'll fucking kill you both and when I'm done with you, there'll be nothing left!"

"The first one to start yelling and screaming," Sasori scoffed. "Itachi's a bastard, but I won't fault his way in describing others."

"Where the hell do you think you're sitting?" the boy continued to seethe. His canines grew longer as did his hair, and what a picture this jinchuuriki painted looking more and more like the beast sealed somewhere buried beneath his skin. Sasori's intrigue was enough to let Deidara antagonize him further, but his attention was once more drawn to that plain, plain girl—too plain to his eyes, so plain that something constant at the back of his mind told him something was amiss.

"Calm down," the girl said quietly. Her voice was too powerful for the body it inhabited, and the undertone of the authority it carried seemed to catch both the old bag and the Copy-nin off guard.

"They _fucking_ —"

"Remember what I told you."

Naruto ground his teeth together before straightening from his feral gait—minutely.

Deidara hummed, the fingers of his hand that hadn't been crushed off tapping against his bottom lip. "Didn't know you could put a jinchuuriki on a leash, but it looks like you learn something new every day, un." His arm extended to rap his knuckles against Gaara's pale cheek. "But you know, don't you? That your mission was useless?"

Sasori watched on.

"That your friend's already long dead, hm?"

Naruto charged.

But not two full strides and the girl was at his front, her back facing him and her left arm held out to keep him from taking another step further. Her face never wavered and not a sound fell from her mouth, and Naruto ceased his movement.

_Wasn't that something?_

"Danna," Deidara started. "You'll probably get angry if I say this, but _I'll_ take care of the jinchuuriki."

Sasori growled, Hiruko's red-veined eyes trained on his irritating lump of a partner. _Children_. "Getting a swell head, are you? One jinchuuriki each, unless you've already forgotten that simple order?"

"An artist will start to dull unless they chase after their muses, Danna. I think it's you who's forgotten that with your old age, hm." Deidara stuck his hand in his clay pouch and bit off a gray piece. "Rumor has it that the Kyuubi jinchuuriki is powerful, and what better use of him than a target for my art?"

Sasori dragged his eyes back forward. "You're calling those explosions of yours art? Spare me. Art is something that remains beautiful forever. Eternal."

Chiyo-baa's lips curled down, Kakashi narrowed his eyes, Naruto clenched his teeth so hard they should have chipped.

But the girl remained plain. Blank. Unassuming.

(Sasori knew for sure that there was something he wasn't getting, and he would find out what it was.)

"Eternal beauty as art? I respect you as a fellow artist, but art is a fleeting moment of beauty that vanishes in a singular, glorious moment."

Sasori prickled and turned this time, his younger, idiotic partner following suit. "Don't start with me you ignorant brat—"

" _Ignorant_?!"

"As it stands, you don't understand what the true meaning of art is."

" _You're_ the one who doesn't understand, hm."

"Knock it the hell off!" Naruto howled. He whipped out a scroll from his side, and from that summoned a fuma shuriken he shot straight as Sasori's hunched bulk. The plain girl didn't move to stop him nor did anyone else in the room.

Hiruko's tail maneuvered to direct the offending projectile somewhere on the other side of the cavern. But never mind that—was the brat seriously acting up now and spouting nonsense about his misunderstanding of art?

"Are you trying to make me angry?"

"I _said_ you were gonna get angry—"

"You know what happens when I get angry," he warned, the scorpion tail swaying and dripping in potent poison. "And yet you lay out your bullshit anyways."

Deidara molded his clay piece into a bird that ballooned into the size of a sand dune. "Well, you know my art is much better than your silly puppet shows, hm," he quipped. He dodged the tail aimed at his face and leapt onto his creation's back as it lifted the Kazekage's corpse into its beak. "See you in a bit, Danna!"

A ridiculous brat to do as he pleased. He wondered why he even put up with him.

The youngest Akatsuki member flew out, Naruto quick on his tail. Kakashi called after him to no avail, and before he too burst from the cavern he turned to the rest of the team.

"Naruto and I will take care of the guy outside," he said. "Chiyo-baa-sama. Sakura-san. Take care of the guy inside, and don't do anything rash until Team Kurenai gets back."

And they were gone.

Sasori eyed the two remaining at the mouth of the cavern, standing atop still waters as a fraught tension mingled with the scent of unearthed mineral and mold. Hiruko's tail bobbed above him. "I thought you retired long ago.”

"I had the sudden urge to see my grandson's face again," Chiyo coolly returned. 

Uppity old bag.

The plain girl didn't draw her katana, merely resting her palm on its hilt as she waited. Her face held no expression, and perhaps it was an apathy so specially crafted that it was enough to hide her fear and apprehension, if she had any. And if she didn't? It would be another thing that didn't match that forgettable appearance she bore.

Chiyo angled herself such that both him and the girl were both in her line of vision. "The Hatake boy said not to do anything rash until back-up arrives."

"They won't get back in time," the girl replied. The old hag's brows furrowed, a question apparent in her frown. "The Five Seal Barrier was far more trouble than anticipated. We're on our own."

She turned her head, and the sight of three beady little insects crawling near her left ear turned over Sasori’s  curiosity once more.

"... Allow me this first, then," Chiyo said. The girl tipped her head and held back, but her eyes shadowed over like a predator ready to pounce.

If Sasori didn't know any better, he would have said that in this moment, she looked like _Konan_ , Leader-sama's Angel who always lurked in the dark and never lent her attention to business that wasn't hers. Her and the girl, their expressions never wavered. Their postures exuded their confidence, but never arrogance, and they chose their quiet over anything else.

Konan had always been good at being a blank canvas, and even in battles did her face only wrinkle slightly at the brow or did her pierced lips turn down the slightest at the corners.

She would have been a perfect puppet had he not held a respect for her position and her artistic direction.

Chiyo reached into her baggy sleeves and directed a line of kunai to hover across her front. Sasori didn't have to see the chakra strings to know they were threaded through each metal loop and held in the hag's startlingly firm grasp.

" _Soushuujin_."

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight—eight kunai were encased in chakra and flung towards him. He barely held back a scoff. What was this child's play? He swung Hiruko's tail forward to block the surge of weapons. One kunai slashed his cloak at the shoulder and another at the waist but none scraped wood, and he was quick to discard the cloth to free the puppet of its restrictions.

"Will you join the girl as additions to my collection, Chiyo-baa?"

( _"If you told me the girl was already a puppet, I wouldn't have wasted my time considering making her one of my own."_ )

"That's not Sasori's real body," Chiyo told the kunoichi at her side. The plain girl finally drew her blade, its metal glinting in the low light, and he took note of the bandages that wrapped her left arm from the tips of her fingers to the middle of her bicep.

"I know," she answered simply. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck as old memories pressed up just behind her eyes. "His real body is on the inside."

"I wasn't aware that there were puppet masters who would grant the likes of you such knowledge," he accused. Too much—the girl knew too much, and it only built on his theory that somewhere under this plain visage she was _hiding_. Chiyo's open stare told him that she hadn't an inkling of the girl's knowledge either, and the girl stood there in her plain clothes with a plain blade whose hilt was bound in blood red bandages.

"They don't," she said.

Hiruko's tail swayed.

"Do you know how I make those in my collection?" Sasori questioned softly. "First, I pull out the organs." One step forward. "Then the bodies are washed with a small cloth dipped in water and soap. Don't drown them, they'll be too sloppy to work with. Don't bleach them, they'll start to corrode." Another step. "I extract their blood, embalm their bodies, fill to the brim with the weapons they failed to defend themselves with when they'd met _me_." Hiruko's head twisted to the side with a loud crick. "Environmentally sound, isn't it?"

The plain girl didn't grace him with a reply.

"You two would bring my collection to three hundred. It's art," he said, "in its purest, truest form."

Sasori remembered his time back in Suna where they called him a master craftsman. Every wooden puppet he'd built always drew in the highest praise, but it was never enough. The human puppetry—it was an accident, in the beginning. It stemmed from his hatred of leaving his dead opponents to bleed out and wither when they had the potential to be so much more. What started out as a collection to study how to make his puppets more human had twisted into something different far down the road. There was no use in making a wooden shell mimic when you could have the original, after all, and only if Suna hadn't been blind enough to see.

"The most frightening thing about a puppet is their hidden weapon," said Chiyo as the wrinkles around her eyes sunk deeper. "If we can't figure out what they are, we won't be able to tell where and how he'll attack."

"Of course," the plain girl hummed. Chiyo glanced at her.

"Do not take it lightly."

"I'm not."

"Then what do you call this?"

"You talk of hidden weapons like it only applies to puppets," the girl intoned smoothly. She twirled her katana in a quick arc of silver. "People are the same."

From inside Hiruko's husk, Sasori's lip twitched. _Too much._

Chiyo stared at the girl with wide eyes, and he knew that she'd caught his grandmother's wariness. It was clear that they hadn't known each other long and there was a fairly high chance that the cadence of their teamwork would be nowhere as seamless as Itachi's and Kisame's. But, that only spelled trouble for him as well. The old bag knew nothing of her partner, and he didn't either.

"His protective puppet, Hiruko, will need to be destroyed," Chiyo said after a long pause. "But I'm afraid I don't have that type of destructive power."

The plain girl slid one of her feet behind her. "I can manage that."

Sasori's lip twitched a few more times. He'd like to see her try.

"Sakura."

The girl turned her head.

"Dodge every single one of his attacks. All of them, perfectly! Not a scratch unless you want to be poisoned within an inch of your own life. At least Temari had that young Hyuuga pull it out of her bloodstream." Chiyo narrowed her eyes. "You have no such luxury here."

Sakura, Sakura, Sakura.

_It had been a long time since he'd met another Sakura._

"I came here knowing I wouldn't receive that luxury," Sakura replied. "Trust me or not, Chiyo-sama, but never fault me on my capabilities. Do what you must, and I will fill in what's missing."

Sasori growled. "Are you about done? You know I hate to be kept waiting, don't you?"

Sakura blinked once. "So I've heard."

Her and Chiyo charged at the same time.

He ripped the mask hanging off Hiruko's face and unhinged the bottom jaw like a snake. It dropped down in three separate parts to expose the inside of its dark mouth. Senbon—hundreds and thousands of senbon—spit out like rain on the harshest of Ame's days when Pein had nothing for the world but an anger that _would_ be heard.

Chiyo managed well for her age and flipped and side-stepped the steel like she was still a shinobi in her prime. With her experience, of course something like this would be nothing. 

But this plain girl. But this _Sakura_.

Her katana cut off any senbon that dared come close and her face remained unchanged as not a single weapon broke skin or tore cloth or whistled through her hair.

The stray senbon stuck up from the ground all around their feet, a purple film coating the outsides and emitting the barest scent of bitter almonds and garlic. Among them stood Chiyo and Sakura without having lost a single breath, the former with her fingers poised to create more chakra strings and the latter with her katana resting on one shoulder.

They were seeing through it. It was impressive, he'd give them that. But how much longer could they keep up?

He extended Hiruko's left arm and launched the bottom half. The pegs stuck into the limb shot out of it the next second to break in halves and eject another stream of poisoned senbon, more clustered and precise than his last barrage.

Once the last weapon stuck itself into the dirt, the two landed on opposite sides of the battlefield, unharmed.

Sasori's eyes narrowed. The old bag he could understand dodging so resolutely with the decades of experience she lugged under her belt, but the girl? She could be no more than fifteen and had to be green around the edges, but to manage those—

Sakura looked at Chiyo as something passed through her eyes before she darted forward faster than he expected. He shot off the last bundle of kunai he reserved for emergencies to which she'd blocked with a quick slash of her blade.

Though... one of them did it. Not her skin and not her clothes, but it cut the kunai pouch off her thigh and dragged across the odd little seal plastered against her thigh. _PERCEPTION_ , it read, though it was harder to make out now that it was bisected and deactivated.

He aimed Hiruko's tail at her head, but it stopped just short of the spot between her cold, dark eyes, and it wouldn't move no matter how much he tugged.

Then, something changed.

Sakura's shirt shifted from black to dark blue, and brown leather pauldrons were suddenly on her shoulders. Her skin might have gone a shade lighter and the shape of her face had become defined, but everything else about her stayed the same.

"Girl," he murmured, just low enough for only her ears. "What are you trying to hide from me?"

Her lips were a grim line. "Nothing less than what I would try to hide from anyone else."

She flung her katana into the air, side-stepped his tail, and he just caught the sight of her right arm rippling into some blue-gray hue before Hiruko shattered into pieces.

Sasori clicked his tongue as he retreated to the back side of the cavern in his black cloak that shrouded his main body. So they were smart. The hag had bound Hiruko's tail with her chakra strings with the _Soushuujin_ from earlier and allowed the girl an opening, though he supposed without that opening he never would have discovered that of all things, _Perception seals_ were what she was concealing. But what did her appearance matter, especially now that there wasn't that hint of blue-gray on her skin he thought he'd seen?

Unless she was someone he knew. And if she was...

It garnered an itch that could only hope to be scratched by the revelation of her true identity.

After all, Perception seals always came in threes. He only needed to break two more.

"I've come this far to see my grandson's face," Chiyo called out to him, and he rolled his eyes. "After twenty long years, don't you think you could grant me at least that?"

His finger twitched and Hiruko's decapitated head spat out one last barrage of senbon, all of which Sakura blocked with her sword without moving her feet.

"So you're skilled enough," he hummed, "to not need Chiyo-baa to control you with her chakra strings." He turned to face them, his cloak still a shadow over his features. "Where did you learn, girl? And how is it that at your age, you could predict my movements?"

Mirth rose in her irises. "Would you believe me if I'd called it luck?"

"Not at all." Sasori brought up his hand to tug down his hood and red hair sprung with the movement. Chiyo's eyes grew impossibly wide and her mouth gaped like an unseemly fish.

"You haven't aged," she whispered. "You haven't... You're just as you were the day you left."

He chuckled, tipping his head downward. He waited and waited and waited for her to say more, but she should know how much he hated waiting and didn't let the silence ring for long. "What's the matter, Chiyo-baa? So filled with emotion that you have nothing else to say?" He scoffed. Typical old hag. The longer he drew this out, the more he would have to hear her nonsensical ramblings. "I shouldn't have expected anything different."

A scroll dropped from his sleeve and he summoned the Sandaime Kazekage—a golden pride of his pieces. It had taken him months to fix up that body and more months after that to even learn how to utilize the puppet. But in the end, it was worth it. An eternal beauty of a moment frozen in time.

Chiyo released a shaky breath, and Sakura cocked her head slightly to listen. "It was over ten years ago that the Sandaime suddenly disappeared from the village. We scoured the countryside and the smaller villages and the borders, but we were never able to find him or his body. Very few rivaled his strength and it was never a popular theory that someone had taken him down..." She grit her teeth. "Sasori, you...?"

"And if I did?" he posed. "Don't tell me that a retired old lady with one foot in the grave is about to avenge the Sandaime Kazekage."

"I might have one foot in the grave, but it was worth hauling my heavy behind all the way over here. I'd have too many regrets if I were to keel over now," she huffed. "It's bad enough that my grandson got himself mixed up with a bad crowd—"

Sakura turned her head back around.

"—but to think that you'd betray your own village—"

Sasori hadn't been watching the girl's face. If he had, he would have seen the crackling darkness that befell it.

"—you kill the Sandaime, you lead Orochimaru to murder the Yondaime, lay waste to the Godaime—"

"Whatever that business with Rasa was nothing of mine," he interrupted, one brow raised. "My subordinate guided them."

"Your subordinate. Can you truly say you were not involved?"

"Orochimaru may have been my partner at one point in time, so I can only imagine the things I had gotten up to back then, but whatever he'd done after that is none of my concern." He extended his arm. "But enough of that. Why don't we get right down to it?"

The second the Sandaime surged forward, Sakura propelled herself back. Thick, heavy blades erupted from the right puppet arm and slashed down towards her torso, and even Hiruko's tail that Chiyo brought up to shield the girl was no match for the steel when the wood fell to the ground in butchered chunks.

"Quick," Sasori commented. "But are you quick enough?"

The Sandaime's left arm swung to its front for six separate sections to click off the main appendage and flay out, revealing a set of seals on each hardened flap. It had taken him longer than he'd like to admit to figure out the locks and sequences, even with Konan's input. Orochimaru had always had an inclination towards the seals and ever since he left—next time he saw the bastard he'd stick a kunai through his damn _neck_ —seals were something that took him some time to perfect. Besides, was this not something he’d already achieved? _Perfection_?

A wide grin stretched his face. "Dodge this, girl!"

Hundreds of puppet arms shot out the seals and descended upon the girl, crashing over her entirely and flaring a cloud of dust across the cavern.

"Sakura!"

Silence.

Then, the distinct splintering of broken wood.

_What?_

Through wooden limbs he spotted her in the center, every arm in her immediate vicinity snapped and destroyed like they'd crashed into concrete. Her right leg was stuck out and her own arms were spread wide, and he spied a wisp of receding blue-gray on her neck as she balanced herself on her left leg.

She changed again. That brown hair that was in a ponytail was suddenly short and cropped at the base of her head and a blue tattoo bloomed along her cheekbone. Her left ear was mangled from an injury that looked to be years old and a set of four ugly, garish scars crawled up from somewhere from her right shoulder to end like a kiss against her jaw. Muscles larger, a Konoha headband on her forehead, and Sasori was almost giddy.

At the bottom of her right sandal was another torn Perception seal, and he wanted to laugh.

One more seal to break. 

_Show me your true face, plain girl._

A finger twitched and thick purple gas congregated on her. Choking. Suffocating. Hoping to crave that insatiable _want_ for her to beg for him to stop. The old bag's face dawned in panic as she shouted for the girl to hold her breath, but he would admit to being disappointed if this was all it took to kill her. A little poison gas was enough to kill a group of gutter rats, but a fully-fledged kunoichi?

But to his conflicting satisfaction and distaste—he wasn't quite sure which feeling outweighed the other—the poison was short-lived.

An explosion rocked the cavern from where the girl should be standing, dispersing his poison into ineffectiveness and sending a body careening back for Chiyo to catch. She was banged up but conscious, and she took a few deep breaths before she hefted herself back onto her feet.

Chiyo reluctantly let her go when she didn't look like she'd fall over. "Sakura, are you alright?"

"Fine." The back of her hand swiped the blood from the corner of her mouth, and she opened her mouth for those _insects_ to creep out and disappear behind her shoulders. "No need to worry about me, Chiyo-sama. I've been told I'm particularly annoying to kill."

Sasori held a fist to his mouth and laughed. "Well," he sighed, lips smiling and hungry, "I wouldn't say any of them are wrong."

A hail of kunai spewed from the accumulation of arms and arcs over them like a grand wave of metal and descended upon his opponents. Sakura angled her katana to try and block, but before she could move Chiyo summoned two puppets from two separate scrolls to shield them both from the horde.

One man with red hair that matched his own and one woman with long brown hair that spilled past her shoulders.

That _sentimental_ old bag.

"I see you've kept those old things."

Chiyo's face softened, and it churned a pit of anger in his stomach. "The first puppets you ever made... the Father and the Mother."

He'd wasted so much of his time making those puppets. His first designs that were shoddy at best with their lifeless caricatures and compartments too thin and weak to hold proper weaponry. They were simplicity at best that lacked any real artistic flair.

He should have destroyed them a long time ago.

Sakura hung back as she watched the Sandaime battle the Parent Series until their weapons dulled and they can only meet at a standstill. For that exchange, at least, Sasori kept one eye on the battle and not much else; he knew the tricks his grandmother hid up her sleeves and behind her back and understood the skill it took for her to be such an elevated figure in his old village.

But the not-so plain girl had an opening for attacks she didn't take. Sasori knew nothing of her skill and her aptitude and until just a few moments ago, he'd learned of which village she hailed from. Konoha; the weak, the soft-hearted.

At first glance she looked like a picture perfect pawn heeding their superior's order to stand by and study. But the longer he observed her, the more he saw her eyes were decidedly not trailing after the Sandaime's afterimages. They were watching his fingers—every twitch, every command, every slight—and committed them to memory.

In this moment, she looked like _Kakuzu_. She looked like Kakuzu when he stood on the sidelines and watched Hidan crow and hack at his enemies, cold and distant. She looked like Kakuzu when he counted his pay from bingo book listings with a sharp eye and an even sharper temper if he was ever cheated short.

First she looked like Konan, then she looked like Kakuzu, and he didn't understand.

Sasori brought the Sandaime back to his side and unhinged its jaw. "This is getting too messy for my liking."

Iron sand poured from the puppet's mouth.

"What do I need to know about this jutsu?" Sakura questioned. Chiyo pressed her lips together.

"The Sandaime had a special body that could apply his chakra magnetically, thus developing a technique that changed iron sand into various shapes, creating weapons according to the situation. Are you familiar with Godaime Kazekage and his jutsu?"

"Familiar enough."

"Then think of that when fighting the Sandaime." Wizened eyes drifted over to the girl. "My initial instinct is to tell you to flee because this battle is far more than I could have ever expected." The space between her brows creased. "But, you too are far more than I could have ever expected. Your abilities, your mystery... tell me something, Sakura."

Sakura inclined her head.

"Will your secrets get you killed?"

The girl raised a brow, humored almost, and slipped her katana back into the sheath on her hip. "They've tried."

"Too slow!" Sasori barked. The iron sand hovering in the air concentrated into small spheres and hurricaned down onto his opponents, avoided by quick steps and foresight. Iron rose up from the craters they'd created and warped into sharp rhombi that suspended so high above their heads that some of the corners scraped the ceiling. "Prove to me you're not wasting my time."

The rhombi fall, dust billowing up from where they land.

He shouldn't have been as surprised as he was to see they'd somehow managed to block the attack. But his intrigue was spurned by the sight of three chakra shields protecting them from the blow. The first and second came from the outward pushing plates of the Parent Series' forearms, and the third...

Sasori's eyes positively _glimmered_. "Even if it's only one arm, you've turned your own body into a puppet." Iron sand leached into every wooden joint, jamming its movement. "As fellow puppet masters, it seems we think alike. But I wonder if it's from the blood we used to share."

More sand streamed from the Sandaime's mouth as Chiyo detached her now useless puppet arm. One-handed and out of depth, there was no other viable way for her to move forward at this rate. 

Sasori wondered how much of that fearsome reputation had gone with age. The hag was an echo of who she once was, a shadow of her better self, and it was a tragedy he would never experience—not with this new body, not with his new art, not with his new eternity.

Certainly this was where he would declare his victory.

But.

Sakura strode from behind Chiyo to block her front, not unlike how she'd done so earlier with the jinchuuriki. "The game's magnetism now? Alright. I don't need my steel to fight." She punched her right fist into her left palm and cracked her knuckles. "Utilize me as your puppet."

"What? Sakura, are you sure—"

"It'll be fine, Chiyo-sama."

( _"It's a shame you'll die here. You would've been such an effective puppet if you hadn't gotten on my nerves."_ )

Sasori narrowed his eyes. "Tch."

The girl dove forward.

She leapt away from the iron spike he aimed at her and it dragged a chasm through the ground with its heavy weight. His chakra strings weren't strong enough to pull it back from slamming into the cavern wall; it crushed a hole in the rock wall near where the team had broken through in the beginning and the earth trembled beneath them.

He sent an iron pillar careening onto Sakura. She flipped out of the way to avoid it, but then—then one corner of her lips curl up and her eyes glint and _this_ time he saw the blue-gray bloom from her right knuckles down to her wrist and her elbow and she flashed forward to slam that discolored fist into the pillar.

If his body was still human, Sasori would have choked at the sight of the pillar breezing past his face and colliding into the back wall with a shuddering _boom_.

After a beat, he smirked.

The spike removed itself from the wall and started to twist like a spinning top that followed the girl all around the cavern. She outran it like a jackrabbit from a fox, never dropping pace as her one arm shone that unearthly color.

Her taijutsu prowess was nothing to ignore. He couldn't quite define the line between her own ability and his grandmother's interference, but from what he'd seen of the girl she had never been un-noteworthy. That plain appearance misdirected him from the moment they met and really, he had to hand it to her. 

_You talk of hidden weapons like it only applies to puppets. People are the same,_ indeed.

Sakura fired another iron prism off course, and the entire ceiling caved in over them.

"You've read my attack patterns," he said atop the rubble of rocks and boulders. There was a smear of dirt across one of the girl's cheeks and her fingers were curved in close to her palms as she waited in a defensive stance, ready to strike. Shallow breaths left her chest but she wasn't tired yet, not even close.

If he peered at her face, he could see something wild around her eyes. Something _exciting_.

And that excitement only overflowed after he dispelled the prisms and weaved together all the iron sand from his puppet into a web of needles like it had been spun by a widow; after she dodged each lance and skewer aimed for every vital organ and not earning a single graze; after tanking through the debris with that blue-gray arm and bloodlust in her grin.

After storming the Sandaime Kazekage and putting a leg through its chest and crushing its wooden skull between her fingers.

She retreated to Chiyo's side after her carnage, breathing heavier and sweat slick on her skin.

He was irritated. Truly, utterly, _annoyed_.

And yet, it was still the best fight he'd had in twenty years.

Never once since joining the Akatsuki had he needed to resort to such measures and the more bodies he collected, the less he'd needed to use the more powerful of his puppets. And as he shucked off his cloak and let the metal coil in his stomach unwind, poison dripping off its silver sheen, he stared down at the old bag and the not-so plain girl with a quirk of his brow and a raspy laugh caught in his throat.

He held his arms out, metal tubes crawling out from his palms.

"Let's try this again," he growled.

The tubes howled as he cast lines of fire across the broken cavern.

Sakura and Chiyo huddled behind the same boulder that he bombarded with flames. He couldn't hear what they were saying or if they were saying anything at all—why would he need to? He had them at the mercy of his most powerful weapon and the only thing they could do was run.

"I'm getting tired of your hiding."

The tubes clicked and switched to spit out a jet of water instead. It was streamlined enough to cut through any and all boulders they could crouch behind where they could lick their wounds. He'd upturn the rubble into shaved pieces if he had to—anything to put them out in the open where he could watch the life drain from their eyes.

"Hey."

Sasori blinked and turned his head where Sakura perched on a higher stack of rubble. She stared down at him with a face as blank as ever, arms crossed over her chest and her katana hung leisurely on her hip.

"You want this fight over, don't you?"

His gaze flickered to Chiyo's dread-stricken expression as she slid out from behind the boulder she hid behind before he glanced back. "What could you possibly presume about me that you could pick out my thoughts?"

"It's a simple question," she said, and her sheer audacity wanted to make him crack a grin. "Do you want this fight over with or not?"

"Say I do." _Click, click, click_ went his hands as the tubes retreated back into his body. "But that's the nature of battle, if a child like you didn't know. Young and naive..." He tilted his head. "Are you naive? I still can't get a read on that."

She shrugged. "I couldn't tell you."

" _Sakura_!" Chiyo snapped. Her and Sasori turn to look at her and the fear and apprehension sunken deep in the lines in her face. "What are you doing?"

The girl stood up straighter and rolled both her shoulders back that made her impossibly taller than she already was. He was reminded of Konan again, briefly, and trailed her right hand as it clasped the thin baton-like thing, tugging it out of its sheath and holding it close to her thigh.

"I want to bring this to its end," she said. "No more dancing around. Bring out your best weapons." Her eyes flashed, that sharpness winding through them stabbing at the edges. "I'm getting tired of the mess."

_Shiff._

Her left arm, the bandages starting to loosen around the bicep and the tips of her fingers, reached into her hip pouch and brought out a small canister. It was about as long as her hand and was absolutely slathered in seals that fattened its bulk almost double. She pressed it flush against her baton, lid side down, and flipped it open.

Chiyo gasped as bright, syrupy blood burst out the canister, and far, _far_ , too much came pouring out. What he supposed were Expansion seals were doing far too good of a job... It gushed and didn't stop and Sasori had no idea what exactly she'd been trying to pull by spilling all this blood on the floor.

Except, it didn't spill. The blood flooded relentlessly, but it outlined some invisible shape that grew longer and sharp and red turned to polished silver iron.

The baton was never a baton in the first place.

Sakura re-adjusted her grip on the hilt of the gargantuan sword she swung to rest on her shoulders.

That sword... he remembered when it had been in the Akatsuki, owned by Biwa Juzo and left to Kirigakure's possession upon his death. Kisame used to lament about its loss and how his old village had already given up the rights to all their legendary blades when they decided to fall to corruption.

A Konoha-nin shouldn't be in possession of that sword.

A _child_ shouldn't be in possession of that sword.

Yet here they were.

Chiyo didn't move, but her eyes went back and forth from not-so plain girl to him and back again. Her human hand shook and sometime in the last few minutes she'd taken back her puppet arm to shake off the iron sand and reattach it to the crook of her elbow.

But then she released a sigh from far inside her soul, world-weary and heavy with the acceptance of the inevitable.

"I didn't want it to come down to this," she murmured. She reached into her bag and pulled out a weathered old scroll, purple and bound in black rope. "I told myself that once I retired, I would never use these again. But it seems it won't work out that way."

The scroll unraveled and ten puppets clad in white garments burst forth.

Sasori hummed. "It's said the ability of a puppet master is measured by the number of puppets they can use. Chiyo-baa's secret 'Number of Fingers.' I'd heard about it—the device you used to bring down a castle all on your own. _Shirohigi: Jikki Chikamatsu no Shuu_." He used a chakra string to pluck one of his scrolls on his back and dropped it into his hands. "The ten masterpieces by Chikamatsu Monzaemon, Father of the Puppetry Arts. I'm impressed."

He popped open a compartment in his chest cavity the same time he unrolled his own red scroll.

Hundreds of chakra strings slithered out his body, and one hundred puppets shadowed the sun.

"But I used these to bring down a nation." He sighed and pressed a few fingers to his forehead. "I admit, I'm appalled at myself. How long am I going to fight a little girl and an old bag?"

"Sasori-san."

Sasori moved his attention back to Sakura—my, he would never forget about her dramatic reveal—and he met her cold, burning gaze. The bandages hiding most of her left arm were starting to loosen around the bicep and the tips of her fingers.

"Prove to me you're not wasting my time."

Oh, this not-so plain girl was going to be the best puppet of them all.

The hundred puppets dangling in the air all descended upon them like sudden falling angels swathed in maroon.

Sakura twirled Kubikiribocho before she pounced with a wordless war-cry. Something at the back of Sasori's head whispered and he paid it no mind, mostly because none of it made any sense. The voice told him that the girl would better fit that part if she had pointed teeth and blue-tinted skin, and what nonsense was that? She looked nothing like _Kisame_ —why was his brain telling him that she _should_?

She mowed down puppet after puppet like they were made of melting butter. Kubikiribocho never acted as an extra weight; her and her blade moved like water down a stream, flowing in tandem, destroying his puppets in grace and brute force.

His grandmother sent her puppets out like they were foot soldiers in war. They pitched forward with not an ounce of reluctance. The red puppet linked hands with the black haired one and twisted through the air like spinning blades; the vermilion hair in twin buns bisected and beheaded with twin swords; the one with painted blue wood shot cables out its head like an angry kraken; those marked _Dharma_ and _Buddha_ and _Sangha_ morphed a section of the battlefield into a crushing wind tunnel.

Kubikiribocho hurled into the air as Sakura bashed in three puppets in succession before snatching the hilt and windmilling it downwards to slice open three more. The Monzaemon with colossal fists appeared at her back and threw her back into the air where she sliced five more puppets and wrapped an arm around another to drive it back down into the earth with a _crunch_.

They'd gotten rid of almost half of the Red Secret Series. While it was a loss reflected on him, it allowed him more focus on each individual puppet body. That, and one of them had yet to succumb to his poison.

_'What would they do,'_ Sasori thought, _'when none of them have the antidote?'_

His eyes scanned through the roar of the battle.

There!

One of his puppets slashed the hag from shoulder to hip and subsequently was destroyed by a Monzaemon.

"Chiyo-sama!" Sakura called from across the way.

"Don't worry about me! Aim for Sasori—I'll keep all his other puppets in check!"

Sasori locked eyes with the not-so plain girl from across the cavern, and they stayed like that for an instant. Her breathing, him not. Then she propelled herself forward, tearing through the rubble like it was merely grass. Two of the Monzaemon collection flanked her sides, blue wood and twin buns, and kept her sides clear. Any other Reds that managed to slip in the front of either met the executioner's blade or a foot through the skull.

The last of the Monzaemons—the one with the lone eye—unhinged its purple mouth and dropped a crinkled orb in the girl's hand after she leapt to avoid the eleven different swords suddenly thrust in her direction.

She kept running, unfaulting, almost as if she ran faster and faster by the second. A blur of blue and silver in dust clouds until she's close. Too close.

Too much.

He saw it, once more.

The way her arm flowers blue-gray as she slammed Kubikiribocho into the ground, planted her feet on its hilt, and catapulted herself with chakra-enhanced feet.

Airborne, she hurled the crinkled orb as hard as she could and he watched, watched, watched it grow into a lion's head with too many teeth—

_Black_.

:: ::

Sakura brushed sawdust off her knuckles as the rest of the Red Series suddenly stilled and collapsed into boneless heaps in the rubble.

Sasori and her father didn't get along too much. Granted, Sasori rarely found himself in Ame and when he did he was sure to keep a wide berth away from her. After their initial meeting that would've ended up with her guts all over the floor if Konan hadn't intervened, they never spoke to one another. She could remember one or two days where they might have caught each other's eye through the rain with his Hiruko tail at the ready and her head always ducked down in fear, and that's all they'd ever been.

Strangers on different sides of the street.

She caught her breath as she inspected Sasori's trapped body on one of the cavern walls. A diamond-shaped seal surrounded his wooden frame as the Lion-Headed Kannon mechanism pinned him to the rock, rendered completely immobile and blank and mute.

_'Wait.'_

" _Fuuinjutsu: Shishi Heiko_ ," Chiyo panted. "The seal that completely suppressed all chakra. You can't use your chakra threads anymore. It's over, Saso... ri..."

_'Where—'_

The old woman collapsed onto her knees.

_'—is his heart?'_

Sakura turned around and ran, and didn't stop.

(And faintly, she wondered if she'll ever learn her lesson.)

:: ::

Sakura was fifteen years old. And with that fact came the understanding that he hadn't been part of her life now for over half of it.

Kisame sighed and rubbed his eyes. He couldn't recall what Sakura looked like when her and her team fought his clone, but the one thing he could never _stop_ seeing was the way her hands bled as she hacked Samehada through her opponent's body without a moment's hesitation.

It warmed him in a way to know that a kenjutsu ability had flourished in her blood but it was never enough to fight off the chill that maybe, _just maybe_ , she was starting to become like him. He always wanted her to be a good shinobi, not one that mindlessly spilled blood wherever they went.

_'Guess that's not a very good dream to have.'_

But all that was speculation. He hadn't seen her properly since the Chuunin Exams and he hadn't talked to her years longer than that. _Of course_ she'd changed from that young pup that begged him for stories and hung from his arms and _of course_ he should stop thinking that she was still a baby with too many scars, but... but how could he? How could he think of her as anything different when memories of that seven year old girl napping with her shark plush was all he had left to hold?

He sighed again.

"Kisame-san?"

He waved a dismissive hand. "Just a bit tired."

"We could rest here, if you prefer," Itachi offered. They were somewhere in Earth Country now, weaving their way through swamps and stone for the bounty on their list before they made their trip back to Ame. "We are not operating on strict time constraints."

"It's all good."

Itachi frowned a bit, some concern shining through his gaze. "Are you sure? You have been... off, since we encountered the Konoha shinobi."

"Just thinkin' too much." Kisame shrugged, flashing his partner his best grin as they passed a particularly muddy pit. "Nothin' a fight won't fix."

He had no choice but to plow forward with the hope that his pup would at the very least be alive and safe with only the worries that came with being a loyal shinobi to her new home.

:: ::

The sword slid through her easily—past skin, past muscle—and glided out her other side with a nice new coat of color. A thin streak of red dribbled down the corner of her mouth and Chiyo looked up, blood on her face and horror in her eyes.

"Chiyo-sama," the girl said, and Sasori almost couldn't believe that her voice never wavered. Calm and collected like there wasn't a damned poison sword pierced through her body. "Are you alright? Can you still move?"

"Oh? You're worrying about other people even with this wound?" he questioned loftily. He plunged the steel deeper, only stopping when her left hand gripped the blade near its hilt and held it in place. It ripped at her bandages, but her hand didn't bleed.

The wraps that had begun falling apart from the beginning of the end of their battle were completely torn from her upper arm now and hung limply from her forearm.

Part of her elbow was exposed, and it was wood.

_A puppet arm._

"It's like you're an endless bout of surprises," Sasori breathed. "I keep waiting for the other kunai to drop and right when I think it does, I look up and you're still lording it over my head." He chuckled, low and hoarse from the splinters in his throat. "Come now, girl. You've destroyed all my puppets, wasted away my reserves, and you're standing there looking pretty with a poisoned sword in your gut." Her hand clenched tighter around the blade. "I'm eager, I'm impatient. Sakura, don't you think it's time to properly introduce yourself to me?"

( _Konan placed a graceful hand behind her back and gently nudged her forward. "This is Akasuna no Sasori. Sakura, introduce yourself."_ )

His eyes followed her right hand as she reached over to tug the bandages off her forearm. For a split second he was entranced by the delicate work of interwoven wood and dark metal, and he spotted the third Perception seal right between where the ulnar and radial arteries used to be.

"I'm Hoshigaki Sakura," she said. Her fingers—dirt under short cut nails, ash in the crooks of her hands—peeled off the seal slip and her plain image _broke_. An obnoxious pink shivered down from her scalp to the ends of her hair and her eyes, oh those eyes he found drab were suddenly the painful, startling green that he'd seen once or twice long ago before they'd hidden themselves behind Kisame's bulk like a spineless little mouse. "We've already met."

The sun above them beat down on their devastation from its throne in those brilliant blue skies. Clouds drifted lazily along its surface and the shadows of passing birds caressed them as they passed.

It was silent in the crumbled remains of this no-name cavern with no one except a dying old woman, a puppet on his last legs, and the little girl that Hoshigaki Kisame mourned.

Sasori threw his head back and _laughed_.

Because it was absurd, wasn't it? It shouldn't make any sense why a child whose body parts should have been scattered sky high in an explosion was suddenly here and grown and deadly—except, it explained everything. Kisame had lost himself for months, going about his duties with the stench of guilt on his clothes; he'd sit in the graveyard for hours as he pressed his forehead against his wife's grave, mumbling apologies in the roar of the rain.

He'd seen Konan in her eyes because she'd once been taken under the Angel's wing. He'd seen Kakuzu in her shoulders because she'd trailed after him like a silent duckling to never stoke his temper.

"It's so strange," he said once his laughter crested back into the pit of his stomach, "how you look more like Konan or Kakuzu rather than your own father."

_Hoshigaki_ Sakura's human arm blazed blue-gray as she snapped the blade at the hilt and drew back, closer to Chiyo-baa but still ready to pounce. She reached behind her to crack the length of the blade protruding out her back until only a centimeter of silver poked out from each side of the wound. She braced her puppet arm in front of her, fingers splayed and ready to attack.

No matter.

He would finish what he started.

Sasori detached the forearm of the current body he inhabited and yanked out the dagger lodged in the elbow joint as he lunged.

"You should have _stayed dead_ , little girl!"

Then.

Sakura curled in her left fingers.

:: ::

The swords slid through him easily—past the canvas of the vessel that held his heart—and glided out his front with a nice new coat of color. A thin streak of purple dribbled down the corner of his mouth, and Chiyo looked up.

"I'm not a puppet master by any means," Sakura panted, and the old counselor's jaw dropped when she realized there were chakra strings on the tips of the girl's metal fingers. "But Kankuro wouldn't let me keep his work without learning the basics."

The sight of Fukuro and Kawako piercing their son's heart... Even as puppets, even as nothing more than wood that carried echoes of the memories they used to be, it brought tears to her eyes as she choked down a sob.

She loved that boy. Her grandson. The little star that grew to hate her because she could never bring herself to tell him the truth of what happened to his parents. Looking back at it now, perhaps if she'd told him they were dead instead of letting him look out the window for souls who would never find their way back home, maybe they wouldn't be scraping their knees in rubble. Maybe she wouldn't be dying from his poison.

Maybe she wouldn't have watched him take the killing blow from a Konoha-nin, just as his parents did.

"You lowered your guard at the end, Sasori," Chiyo wheezed. Under their feet was the _Shishi Heiko_ from the Monzaemon he hadn't thought to look for when trying to slit Sakura's throat, and the girl's quick thinking and unprecedented utilization of chakra strings had allowed her to finally trap her grandson.

To trap, to kill.

The girl fell onto one knee.

"Sakura!"

Chiyo crawled the few steps it took to reach her and assessed the wound.

And nearly recoiled at the sight.

Blood leaked from the puncture, but only slightly, as all the skin around it shone that blue-gray color that turned her skin to the equivalent of stone. But the skin wasn't the only thing her jutsu turned; all the torn muscle and the organ it should have pierced are the same dull color—hardened and still.

"The other team can make it here soon," Sakura murmured, and those insects were buzzing near her ears again. "I..." She gulped down a breath. "I made sure to solidify the area he stabbed to stop the poison from spreading and to minimize blood loss. Hyuuga-san has the antidote. Shino can heal the damage."

Chiyo was simply nothing short of horrified. _'Unbelievable...'_

"... I see now. That jutsu you used is Kakuzu's _Doton: Domu_ , isn't it?" Sasori exhaled slightly. "Does the Akatsuki know you're alive?"

Sakura was quiet.

A strangled chuckle trickled past his wooden lips. "Heh. And just how long do you think that'll last you, little girl? The moment Leader-sama finds out about you, there won't be anywhere for you to run. Nowhere for you to hide. Those Perception seals were good, but you know he's better." He grinned as the life continued to bleed out through his heart. "Best find your way back home, _pup_. The Akatsuki had you once, and they'll never let you go again."

Chiyo watched Sakura turn her head as she held her stomach. She couldn't see the girl's face from here and it was probably as blank as it tended to be, but Sasori's grin went wider and a spike of pity tumbled through her old bones.

She didn't know the full story here, but... what was there not to get? Sakura, apparently born to the Tail-less Tailed Beast of the Bloody Mist. Sasori worked with her father on a regular basis and for some reason he and all those other names he mentioned thought she was dead. She wasn't working for them, not with the way she hid her appearance with those Perception seals or with the way she cared for the other jinchuuriki boy.

Sakura drew in a deep breath and pushed herself onto her feet. Chiyo wanted to pull her back down and force her to rest, but she couldn't bring herself to move as the girl patted her shoulder and limped across the cavern to where she'd stuck her sword into the ground. Her arm still darkened with jutsu, she slammed a fist into the blade until it shattered into blood. She returned it to the sheath on her back, and once more it looked like some oddly shaped baton.

And as she did, she reapplied the undamaged Perception seal on the sole of her sandal before limping to her grandson's first body.

"How... terrible."

Sasori's head was tilted back, eyes trained on the sky. When Chiyo looked at him, all she could think of was what it would have been like to see him grow old. To see him content. _Happy_.

"What's terrible?" she rasped. "The outcome of this battle, or the fact that you knew you were in my sealing range and decided not to move out of it?"

His lips quirked, and his heart spurt out the final vestiges of purple liquid. "You really are a senile old bat, aren't you?"

And he fell in a clatter of hollow wood, bringing down Fukuro and Kawako in a heap that stopped living a long, long time ago.

She sighed and wobbled up to her feet.

There were no winners here today.

Sakura made her way back over, all of her skin an equal hue and her puppet arm only chipped this way and that, and Chiyo took this minute to stare. How could she expect something like this? The girl was a _chuunin_ , yet she had a friendship with the current village ambassador that was enough for him to build her an arm, a camaraderie with a jinchuuriki who  listened to her when he listened to no one else, and had so many— _too many_ —secrets that she was armed to the teeth in them.

The way they unraveled, one after the other and another each more uneasy than the last, they were too many. Too many. Too much.

_Just as young as Sasori the day he left._

Sakura offered out her arm. "Do you need help walking, Chiyo-sama? The poison in your system—"

Chiyo grasped her bicep and tugged her down, lowering her voice to a whisper. "I have been alive for a long, long time, girl. Your secrets were not meant for me to hear and thus they aren't meant for me to tell, but understand that they are _dangerous_ . Listen to this senile old bat when she tells you this," she begged. "Do _not_ drown in them, and do _not_ let them win."

Sakura's gaze searched before she smiled, a cut on her lip and blood on her teeth. "They'll only win when I'm dead." She held out her arm again. "It'll be better for you to walk on even ground."

_"No need to worry about me, Chiyo-sama. I've been told I'm particularly annoying to kill."_

In this moment, she looked like _Sasori_. There was a darkness that lingered in her eyes and shadows clinging onto her shoulders like wraiths. She was cold and distant, confident with purpose. 

Chiyo allowed herself to be helped over the debris.

She wondered if this girl, too, would end in tragedy.

:: ::

Danzo perused the restricted section of the Hokage Library with a careful eye. Tsunade would have wanted nothing more to kick him out and ban him from a place as powerful as this, but he took a certain satisfaction knowing that he had a right to all this information as a member of the Konoha Council.

He dragged a finger along the book spines as his cane clacked against the floor. What had he been looking for again? About a past Hokage? About their allies? Perhaps—

His finger bridged a gap in the shelf, and he stopped to turn his head. The shelves were always tightly packed with texts and scrolls and things of the like, and no one ever came to clean it because everything would have their use one way or another. Yet there was an empty place where a book should be.

And dust had collected in the gap, suggesting it had been missing for quite a while now.

Danzo took the time to pull each and every book from that shelf section and read the titles inside the covers. Ah, the seals section. He was familiar with all the books provided and it seemed...

It seemed that the missing text was none other than **_An Anthology of Theories and Forbidden Practices of the Sealing Arts_ ** _,_ one of the primary texts he'd utilized when creating his cursed seals.

He smiled, ugly and ravenous.

_Well, wasn't that something?_


	11. Safest in the Rain

**_Maybe I thought I knew what it was like to not feel remorse at the deaths of the innocent._ **

**_But I'd always held that guilt._ **

:: ::

Tsunade's eyes never once wavered when Yuuhi gave her calm, steady report about what her and her students had done on their S-rank mission to help retrieve the Godaime Kazekage. There were a few nicks and bruises in the general account, but that was to be expected when working jointly with a team that included Konoha's #1 Knuckle-headed Shinobi.

But besides that? Besides being able to defeat that Hoshigaki clone? Besides the two encountered Akatsuki members? Besides the Akatsuki meeting space completely obliterated? Team Eight had once more delivered a flawless mission; one more clean file on the record.

"—after Chiyo-sama had given up her own life to revive the Kazekage, we made it back to Suna and stayed overnight before coming back here," Kurenai finished. Tsunade noticed there weren't any more bags under her eyes and she seemed to be back to taking care of herself, unlike back then when the loss of her genin team had struck her so deep in her core that she'd nearly become a walking corpse; at least she was making strides in her recovery.

The Hokage nodded and shuffled through a few papers on her desk. "I see. Was Sakura able to provide any additional intel from her fight against Akasuna no Sasori?"

"She learned the Akasuna no Sasori used to be partnered with Orochimaru in their organization, but nothing more than that. She made sure to destroy his heart as a preventative measure to any future occurrences and scavenged the battleground for anything useful, but nothing turned up," the jounin said. Her red eyes were bright and clear and her stance at attention was perfect for those of her standing. A model shinobi, if Tsunade could say so herself.

"Hm." The Akatsuki was still an unknown even though they were a bunch of slimy bastards. No surprise that nothing new had been found out about them. She leaned back into her seat. "Thank you for your report, Yuuhi. You and your team will be paid the standard for S-ranks including bonus recompense for the high political nature of the mission in the following seventy-two hours. Team Eight is assigned a mandatory recovery period of one week before being added back onto the mission roster." She nodded. "Dismissed."

Kurenai dipped into a respectful bow. "Hokage-sama."

As she left the office and stepped out into the hallway, she didn't close the door and Kakashi strolled in not a second after black hair swept out of Tsunade's vision. He shut the door behind him with a quiet _click_.

"Hokage-sama," he greeted politely, a smile under his mask and his exposed eye halfway crinkled. "You asked for me?"

Speaking of model shinobi, this man was a perfect example of a shinobi that _wasn't_. Procrastinating on reports, an insufferable cheek, little regard for decorum when it wasn't the utmost priority—if he wasn't such a damn good person she would have already punched him through a hundred different walls a hundred different times. 

Minato did right by this one, but she couldn't say the same about her old sensei who stuffed him with genin where there were still fresh scars on his mind from the trauma and his time in ANBU.

"I want to talk about your most recent mission."

"Ah, hadn't I already given an oral report? Earlier this morning, if I remember correctly."

"Yes, yes." Tsunade waved a hand. "I brought you in again because I have a few questions on team member behavior."

Kakashi blinked. "For... Naruto? Because I stand by my assessment that he's not ready to take any more high-stakes missions, and if he does it should preferably be with me as his captain. He hasn't learned how to work well with others or listen to orders from an authority since his reinstatement as an active Konoha shinobi, and not to mention that he's still technically a genin regardless of his current skill set."

"I already know that," she replied blandly. He opened his mouth to speak again, but she was quick to continue as she crossed one leg over the other and propped an elbow against her arm rest. "Tell me what you think about Team Eight."

He slowly shut his mouth, something close to pensive crossing what little there was to see of his face.

"Kurenai just gave her report, didn't she?" he questioned. "What did she say happened?"

"They encountered the fake Hoshigaki Kisame and battled him before trapping him in a four-corner barrier and killing him. Then Sakura and Hinata got switched for assignment purposes, on her end they fought clones of themselves until they met up with Chiyo and Sakura where they needed immediate medical assistance."

Kakashi hummed before he nicked his thumb by quickly scraping it with something hidden in his sleeve and running his hands through a set of seals. A summoning matrix and a puff of smoke led to the little brown pug Tsunade had grown familiar enough with, especially since she'd gotten visits from the ninken when Kakashi hadn't bothered to walk all the way to the Hokage Tower to submit his paperwork.

"Boss. Hokage-sama," Pakkun greeted curiously. "What can I help with?"

"We were just wondering if there was anything interesting you saw during Team Eight's fight against that fake Hoshigaki Kisame," said Kakashi. "You saw it all, didn't you?"

"Oh, that. Hey, Boss, why didn't you tell me that team was gonna be so goddamn weird?" he asked. Pakkun hopped onto Tsunade's desk and parked himself in the corner, meeting both the curious gaze of his summoner and the waiting one of the current Hokage. "That team, they've got this... _dynamic_ , right? Inuzuka leads the group, Akamaru and Yuuhi flank the sides, Aburame's in the middle, and Sakura brings up the rear. That formation all the time and yea, that's probably one of those quirks they got which is fine and all but like I said, they're weird."

Tsunade narrowed her eyes. "Give us a short play by play."

"Yes, ma'am. Sakura took the first blow from the fake and blocked it perfectly before he started shooting off all these water techniques. They're good at dodging, didn't get hit once, and the kids bombarded him with primarily taijutsu after Yuuhi caught him in a genjutsu." Which matched what Kurenai had said. "Aburame stayed behind; he released his swarm of insects and I thought he was gonna attack but he just... sent them all away for some reason? To run a perimeter right in the middle of that fight?" _That_ was news to her. Pakkun shook his head. "It didn't matter, though. Sakura successfully separated the fake from his sword and the rest caught him in this four-pronged barrier Inuzuka made himself. Never seen anything like it."

"The seal," Kakashi mentioned, almost immediately latching onto the detail the second it was brought up. "What did it look like?"

"Uh, kinda crazy? It was four-pronged like I said and placed down at the same time and trapped the fake in these fluctuating purple walls. It flashed a bunch and there was never a set pattern, but it held up."

"Inuzuka-kun made an inconsistent barrier that _worked_?"

"Like a charm," Pakkun said. "I heard him say that you could overload it with chakra, but it would take five minutes to break. It was more than enough time than what they needed."

Tsunade pressed her lips together. Inconsistent barriers were one of the best to utilize because of their lack of pattern, complicated input, and delicate handling. _In theory_ , it was the barrier of choice. But in practice? It was notoriously difficult to work without getting the sequences to blow up in your face and most seals masters didn't even bother. If they could work a consistent barrier and get it to function, much like the Five Seal Barrier mentioned in both Hatake's and Yuuhi's reports, then there was no need to waste time on getting an inconsistent barrier to even start up properly.

"They knew it wasn't the real Hoshigaki Kisame before the shapeshifting jutsu revealed itself. Sakura recognized it and executed him with his own blade." Brutal, but also matched what Kurenai had told her. Sakura must have some genjutsu inclination if she had been able to see through it. "Aburame's insects came back when we stopped for the night. He never said anything about it, so I guess they didn't find what they were looking for."

(He doesn't mention the moments spent burying the body.)

Kakashi rubbed his chin. "Hm."

"Something you want to add on to that, Hatake?"

"I'm just wondering why Inuzuka-kun isn't involved in Konoha's Official Seals Division, or something of the like," he said. "He's good and... well, like Pakkun says. Weird. He managed to figure out the Five Seal Barrier, the specifications, and had an idea of how to defeat it all within the span of twenty minutes. According to Hinata, he said he guessed that they would have to fight 'reflections' of something based on the Sacred Geometry Theory combined with his prior knowledge on seals."

He wandered over to one of the windows to peer out as Tsunade tapped her lip and reached for the cup of her now-lukewarm tea. And there it was again about Inuzuka Kiba's interest in seals. His rejected applications still sat under one of the many piles by her desk and no matter how good this brat might really be—which was _unsettlingly_ good—her hands were tied, much like with Aburame Shino's hospital suspension case. Team Eight had simply been gone for too long at too young of an age to be outright trusted in high positions of power, and as much as she wanted to grant them what they rightly deserved, there needed to be a foundation for them to stake their claim.

For Shino, it needed to be a certain degree of obedience to be trusted with orders he might one day receive from his Hokage. 

For Kiba, it was the success of maintaining chuunin rank for a year and half to ensure loyalties and willingness to take a position that required stressful mental labor and ran the risks of dealing with highly classified information.

For Sakura... that was more difficult. Because the girl never made any inclination of pursuing _anything_.

She sighed quietly and took a sip.

So many things to consider. It was almost as if Eight was in a rush for something.

_'But for what?'_

"I mentioned that Naruto had problems regarding authority," Kakashi started. He pulled himself away from the window just enough to turn and rest against the ledge, both hands stuffed into his pants pockets. 

"What about it?"

"He doesn't do well listening to others," he continued. "But he listens to Sakura-san." Tsunade drew forward curiously. "On the mission, he was angry enough that the Kyuubi started to manifest. Nothing that was too concrete, but some of his features were elevated—he'd been like that the whole trip and I was afraid it had stewed enough to make him snap, but within a few minutes of meeting up with Kurenai's team and talking with Sakura-san, he'd almost gone back to normal."

"... I didn't know they were close. I didn't know he was close to _anyone_ , which was one of Jiraiya's main concerns."

"I didn't either." He looked guilty. "I asked him about it later. Turns out they've been neighbors ever since she moved out of the orphanage upon attaining genin rank and she taught him how to cook. They eat together a couple times a week if they're both in the village." Kakashi chuckled a bit as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Maa, maybe I'd pried too much. He told me to 'leave Sakura-chan alone, old man' when I'd asked one too many questions."

They shared the quiet of the office for a short while.

All the things she'd learned today, and she didn't have a clue of what to do with it. Naruto was just a boy with a sadness in his core that always lingered. From the moment she challenged him to when he tried to bring her back to Konoha, that little boy with a big heart and an even bigger hole in it... he had that want for what he'd never had (families, friends, respect, _love_ ), and she'd never known he'd found some of that in this girl she could never figure out.

Honestly, what was this team? Kiba and seals? Shino and his behavior? Sakura and her influence?

Kurenai... where did she stand in all of this?

Tsunade knew she said she'd cast aside her suspicions if Team Eight received a glowing report, but now she only had more questions than answers, and if things didn't start cropping up soon...

She spun her chair around. "Thank you, Hatake. You're dismissed."

:: ::

**_Maybe I thought I knew what it meant to be "good."_ **

**_But I was nothing but a villain._ **

:: ::

"I guess a pretty bad storm rolled in," Chouji mused as he peered outside the window. The hot pot bubbled in the middle of the table as Shino slipped in a few more cuts of raw meat. "Lucky you guys got back before it started."

"Lucky," Shino repeated. He turned up the flame under the pot. "It seems we've been having a lot of luck lately, and it's not something I'm particularly thankful for. Why? Too much of a good thing will eventually be followed by something unsavory."

"Isn't that kind of a pessimistic way to look at things?"

"I find it better to have low expectations than to be let down from my high ones."

Chouji let out a strangled hum before spooning a heap of rice into his mouth and tried not to choke. While he enjoyed Shino's newfound friendliness and liked to hang out with him once or twice a week, he still couldn't say that his abruptness and blunt honesty didn't catch him off-guard anymore. His surprise still hadn't quite tided over since they started being friends.

He'd always thought Shino was a quiet, mysterious kind of guy. Turns out, he just didn't talk when he didn't need to and didn't bother with much of a filter when he did. Who would've thought?

"How did your mission go, by the way?" Chouji asked. He ladled some broth into his bowl. "I know there's a pretty high restriction on it, but it seems like the rumors are all over here and Suna."

Which were pretty wild. The rumors. He'd heard of insanely powerful shinobi and the death and resurrection of Suna's youngest Kazekage, but he could never tell how much was the truth. Besides, he'd only caught wind about the mission from Naruto's loud conversations and after his father had attended a Clan Council meeting.

Shino hummed. "The only person that died was an enemy. I suppose that's all that matters."

It was, but it still left Chouji's throat a bit dry even after he drank some of his broth. He was a chuunin just like Shino, and he was getting up in the ranks, but he still hadn't gone on one of those missions.

Y'know, one of _those_. The ones where your back went a little straighter and the kunai pouch around your thigh was a little too tight and your hands were shaking and you didn't know why, except you did and you didn't want to talk about it. After those missions, you were in your body but not your mind and you flinched a little too much when some got a little too close. It was then that you usually got sent in for assessments and therapists that knew the name of the game; because shinobi never really got better—not when they were retired, not when they were dead—so the rules were simple and you only passed when you played along. If you could lie your way through and you could convince them with well-placed smiles and clever answers, you were cleared for the next mission that might break parts of you that you never knew you had. If you couldn't lie, then it was sessions and medications that made it easier until you were on your next mission and you were given another chance to play the game right.

Chouji hadn't been on one of those missions yet.

He didn't have to ask if Shino had.

"Lucky, then."

"Too much luck."

"Is it really that bad to enjoy victories while they last?"

(The victories he enjoyed were never the ones on the battlefield. There was no joy when he swelled the chakra pathways in his barrier clone and watched himself crumple and bleed out from every orifice in his body, only a brief acknowledgement that his part was over. There was no joy when he successfully healed Sakura of the blade plunged into her stomach, only stuttering relief when she didn't die of poison or blood loss that day.

The victories he enjoyed were when he could feel the warmth of his pack somewhere under the stars even just for a second, where he could close his eyes and forget the world to the sound of steady heartbeats. Never winning battles. Never surviving wars.)

An echo of thunder rang outside as a light smattering of rain beat against the restaurant windows.

Shino placed a piece of cooked meat in his mouth and chewed. "It's not wise to celebrate a good thing too soon. Why? For the off chance that it blows up in my face, I wish to be ready and waiting."

:: ::

**_Maybe I thought I knew what it meant to take the fall for a traitor._ **

**_But I didn't realize the cost._ **

:: ::

The band was made of tungsten carbide; dark gray, had a melting point of about 3422 degrees Celsius, bolstered a mohs rating of eight to nine, extremely scratch resistant. There wasn't a hallmark to be seen. The center stone was a purple jade that ran at a fairly soft hardness rating of six mohs but retained its toughness through its compact composition; it was a translucent variety cut into a non-faceted half sphere with four tungsten prongs anchoring it down. Jade was a gem closely associated with heart chakra and held meanings of purity and harmony and balance, and painted delicately in the middle of it was the kanji for "jewel" or "virgin," but could also be the black king in shogi, _gyoku_.

Kiba blew out a breath as he tapped a pen against the plastic table.

Both Sakura and Shino were out, leaving him and Akamaru alone in the apartment until dinner, probably. They were all supposed to make this whole dinner of fried eggplant and whole baked sea bass that Sakura haggled down to an insane price which was an entire thing—

But, he'd checked out tens of books on metals in jewelry making and purple gemstones and even borrowed a few shogi strategy texts from Shikamaru. Sakura mentioned the rings had some important link in the Akatsuki, and every member she'd grown up with had some version of it.

Her own father's she recalled perfectly; the same dark metal, same four prongs, same sort of gem cut into a non-faceted half sphere. Except instead of it holding a purple jade, it had been an odd variety of yellow jade with the kanji for "south", _nan_ , which apparently was short for _the Southern Star_. Not very helpful. Which sucked.

Ugh.

Akamaru gnawed on one of the beef bones they'd gotten on sale yesterday. " _Perhaps the ring meanings are not as important as you believe?_ " he woofed. " _Nan. Gyoku._ _There isn't much of a correlation there to begin with._ "

"Then why go through all the trouble of givin' them different names? Like, it would make more sense if they all had different colors but the same kanji, or—or like the same color but different kanji 'cause organizations, y'know? But different colors _and_ different kanji... maybe it's like their positions in the organization?"

" _Sakura never mentioned anything about the organization having positions._ "

"Yeah, and she never mentioned her dad was an Akatsuki until one of his coworkers stabbed her."

Akamaru raised his head and licked his chops. " _Can you blame her?_ "

"... No." Kiba pouted. "But still."

He switched out his pen for a pair of tweezers and picked up the rings from the center of the chakra-destabilizing scroll Sakura told him to make for it. Nothing too familiar to him, but also nothing he couldn't learn after going through a few trial and errors. He even boosted the scroll after visiting Sato Akemi-san and spending a couple hours with Iruka-sensei for a brainstorming session. As long as part of the ring touched the sealing paper and never his skin, he was free to examine it however he pleased.

Not that he'd done much of anything other than becoming an amateur jeweler.

"The Akatsuki travel in pairs," he said. Akamaru glanced at him. "And there's at least six according to Konoha's intel and what Sakura's told us. Five now that Sasori's dead. They're never all in one place but they seem to communicate so... communication. There's gotta be a communication matrix somewhere in the gem or the kanji or the band..."

" _They did also manage to extract the bijuu from the Kazekage. Do you think the rings could have something to do with that?_ "

"That's... not a bad idea. It's pretty damn smart, actually. A chakra link? But how can you make it that powerful?"

" _You're the seals expert, not me._ "

"Shut up."

" _You shut up._ "

Kiba stuck his tongue out and leaned forward to peer through the magnifying lens and once again scanned the ring's inner band. He rolled it until the jade sat face down on the paper and peered at the bridge—the place on the ring situated right underneath the center stone—which would be the exact place he'd put a sequence if the link had to do anything with the jade.

"Hm..."

He slipped out a senbon and started to scrape.

Outside, it rained. And rained, and rained, and rained.

:: ::

**_Maybe I thought I knew what it meant to love someone._ **

**_But I couldn't put my love above my duty._ **

:: ::

"What is this?"

Shibi walked into the living room and almost stepped on scattered papers and nonsensical notes, Shino in the midst of it all as he mumbled to himself and spun to regard each and every slip with careful consideration. Sheets covered nearly every centimeter of the floor, filled with things he couldn't fully grasp; he caught terms like _body decomposition rates under extreme temperatures_ and _arterial air embolism_ and something in his chest quickly decided to start falling apart.

When Shino told—not asked—him about becoming a medic, Shibi was surprised. The Aburame insect colonies were not utilized with healing in mind, and though they required a fair amount of knowledge on anatomy and chakra pathways, no one in the clan who housed kikai also decided to lend their skills to the hospital. Not in all his years of raising his son did the boy even shed an inkling of interest in the medical arts.

_'And here is his team's influence rearing its ugly head yet again,'_ he thought with a suppressed sigh. The team he could never understand. Eight.

He had yet to solidify an opinion on them. He could never thank them enough for loving his son. He could never forgive them for the changes he knew would one day kill his son.

They walked a delicate, _delicate_ wire with him.

"Research," Shino responded simply. He picked up a few papers to tuck beneath his arm and laid out a few more to replace them.

"On?"

"Body disposal and stroke inducement."

"... Ah." Well that explained it. "Just something that caught your interest, then?"

"Yes." The boy never looked up from his work, the gap between his brows scrunched as he mouthed the words he read off the papers.

Shibi stood off just to the side, almost a stranger in his own home. Awkward. Intruding. He almost had half a mind to leave his boy to do whatever he did on his own, but it was when he was half-spun around with the intent to retreat to his home office when a thought broke through his head like a pin through cloth.

He felt like he was _intruding_. On his son's work. In their living room.

He felt like he was intruding on his son who never came to dinner, who never slept in his own bed, who worked full shifts at the hospital, who trained with his team, who never made time for what was left of his family.

Who never acted like his son anymore.

Shibi re-oriented himself, even more of that something in his chest crumpling. "You know I don't see you anymore, right?" he questioned softly. "You never tell me where you go, and you don't even tell me if you have a mission. Did you know that I have to find out from the mission desk because they see more of my own son than I do? And I'm supposed to be your father." The Clan Head sighed, a painful wind from his lungs, and held one of his wrists to keep it from shaking. Quieter, he added, "I hate it."

Shino flinched.

"It's not you, _never_ you, but..." He sighed again. "Please understand where I'm coming from. I don't know what you do and you're always so tired—exhausted in ways you shouldn't be. You lost your eye and didn't want to tell me, you... you came back from a _Kumogakure prison_ and went back to work the moment you were cleared. And you expect me to believe that everything's alright? For a year and a half I thought you were dead and you come back like," he gestured to all the papers, "like nothing for you had even changed."

"Father—"

"I spend days wondering where you are and what you're doing. I wonder if you're hurt or if you're sick of if you're even happy because the last time I was ever remotely sure you were okay was when you first graduated _three years ago._ "

The silence was like thick, bubbling tar.

Thunder rumbled overhead.

Shino didn't face him. Didn't do much other than stay in that crouch among his notes on how to kill people that might one day be under his glowing green hand. His head was turned so that Shibi couldn't read his face, but when was the last time he'd seen the face that wasn't masked behind secrets and silence and eyes—one eye—that was too, too tired. 

But Shibi was tired too. Of the quiet.

Of the lies.

"Every time I see you it's almost as if..." He drew in a breath. "When I heard about your suspension at the hospital for, out of all things, _disobeying authority_ —"

Shino began gathering all the papers into his arms. "Had I not taken that case for myself those children would have died. Why? The staff was not thorough enough in their initial screenings, refused my kikai scans because they believed them to be too 'invasive' when I had proven numerous times that they may be more adept at..."

He trailed off when he lifted his head and saw the resignation in the way his father's mouth pulled up into a weak smile. Shino pressed his lips together and organized the stack of papers until they were all in a neat pile, his hands scrambling for something to do.

"It took me a long time to admit this to myself. Far too long," Shibi started quietly. "But I... Shino, I don't know who you are anymore."

Hands clamp around the stack of papers until they crinkled.

"I admit my faults for that. Maybe I hadn't been paying enough attention or I refused to truly acknowledge what was happening." He bowed his head. "I don't know when it was exactly that we started to drift apart, but just because sometimes I don't recognize you doesn't mean I want to lose you again. You're my son and I'll love you no matter who you become, but you need to _tell_ me things so I can help you."

The teen slowly straightened until he was standing. He and Shibi were the same height now, and his long black hair was pulled into one of those flawless buns Sakura used to wear before all her hair was sheared off. He was only fifteen but the angles were sharp, and he never wore anything that didn't cover from the wrists and ankles up.

_'The scars,'_ Shibi wondered. _'I suppose I'll never learn why he has so many.'_

Shino tucked the papers into the messenger back sitting on the couch and belted it shut. For a moment he did nothing, hands on the bag and his back to his father. Then, he slung the strap over his head and rested it over one shoulder.

"I'm sorry that I can't make this easier for you." Shino tugged on his green jacket. "And I'm sorry that can't be the son you wanted."

"That's not—"

"I know," he interrupted softly. "But you deserved to hear that from me and not from someone else." He finally turned around, and his face... it was Shino. Shibi's flesh and blood. But it's someone so different, so much older.

Shibi was looking at a stranger, and his heart broke.

"I love you, Father," he said. "But I..." His hands tightened about his bag strap. "I have too many things to do."

Shino strode out of the clean living room, slid on his sandals, and ventured into the rain.

Like always, Shibi didn't stop him.

:: ::

He made it a few minutes away from the Aburame Complex when his kikai's gentle buzz morphed into a collective scream as someone stepped out from behind one of the trees he'd passed.

"You used to like hanging around the complex and the forests around it," they said. "Do they bore you now?"

Something rushed through Shino's ears as he turned on his heel, and he didn't know if it was his rushing blood or the roaring rain. "I suppose I just can't find the time for those woods," he replied. "Can you say the same for yourself, _Torune_?"

:: ::

**_Maybe I thought I knew what it meant to surrender my soul to a demon._ **

**_But how was I to know that it would kill me so soon?_ **

:: ::

The rain soaked her clothes, chilling as it plastered her hair flat against her head and slid off her skin to drip down onto the ground. Atop the Hokage Monument, the village looked so vast but so small. The rain—she'd felt the storm's warning in her bones as they bounded back from Suna and smelled the earthy, musky, fresh whiff in the skies when it was still bright blue.

Now, the skies were gray. The rain was getting heavier. The thunder was a dull growl.

It would never be Ame.

Sakura sighed and pushed herself up to her feet. Water streamed down her face and her neck and darkened the bandages around her left arm. She pooled chakra to the soles of her sandals as she walked, the muddy dirt failing to stick and failing to leave any footprints behind. The winding streets were mostly empty, yet she stuck to the shadows like second nature. She hugged the walls and never kept all her sides exposed, and her eyes were restless as they darted from this way to that and to way over there.

It wasn't long until she slunk all the way to the apartment unit with the dark blue door and a wilting plant in the windowsill.

Izumo was on a short mission to the border. Wouldn't be back until the end of the week.

What was she doing here?

_"Did you understand that, girl? You're Akatsuki's homegrown advantage. How does it feel to be used?"_

Sakura lifted a shaking hand and rapped her knuckles on the door. The words were loud today. They were loud yesterday. They were loud in the battlefield when he gave them to her with a smile and a bow and a promise that she would never really be free, that she would never—

The door swung open and Kotetsu appeared in some loose long-sleeved shirt with a hole at the bottom and a cartoon character dancing on his chest. He took one long look at her, raised his brow, and stepped aside to let her in.

"Senpai, can I borrow a towel?"

"Sure, but—come _on_ , kid. You're gonna get sick." His voice muffled as he disappeared down the hallway. Sakura quietly shut the front door behind her and stood, sopping wet, on his genkan. "Did you walk all the way here? Were you out long? You gotta take a shower or you're seriously gonna catch something." His voice faded back in as he walked back over with a towel in his arm, which he threw over her head. "I can get you a change of clothes you'll fit in. Probably? Yeah, probably. "

"I'm going to track water into your apartment."

"Kid. I'm not gonna have you stand there and let you get sick."

"Rain doesn't make me sick."

"Take. The shower."

Sakura huffed in amusement and peered down at him from under the fluffy green towel. Her prosthetic was cold and she knew that if she didn't dry and clean it soon, there would be water damage that would take time to fix and repair. "I just came to check in for a bit, then I'll go back out there. It'll waste the whole shower."

Kotetsu pouted, knowing just how stubborn she could be. " _Fine_. Will you at least come into the kitchen for some hot chocolate?"

"Taking advantage of Kamizuki-san's absence?"

"Well if he stopped hiding my junk food, I wouldn't have to sneak around." An angry frown marred his face, but his eyes twinkled as he beckoned her to follow. "I'll even put extra marshmallows in yours if you don't tattle."

She smiled as she followed him.

_"Best find your way back home,_ pup _. The Akatsuki had you once, and they'll never let you go again."_

Her smile dropped. She locked her right hand on her left wrist when phantom pains shot through her nerves. 

She said nothing as she sat at the kitchen island and watched Kotetsu whisk milk and cocoa powder and sugar on the stove. He wasn't pushing her to say anything, which was nice, but he did glance at her every now and again as the towel hung from her shoulders and water dripped from the ends of her hair.

She didn't know why Sasori was bothering her more dead than alive, but he's a never-ending tone in her ears. When tucked against Kiba and Shino and Akamaru he went faint, but he was always an echo at the back of her mind. A whisper.

A ghost.

"Is it really that strange..." she started, and Kotetsu looked at her, "if I look more like everyone else than my own father who raised me?"

And he stopped what he was doing to stare. One of her fingers twitched against the table as she cast her eyes down and, well, this was the first she'd ever spoken about her family in front of anyone that wasn't pack. Sure she wouldn't give the details, and maybe Chiyo-sama was right she thought her secrets would claim her, but... she didn't know why she was saying this to him. Why she keeps talking.

"I... I haven't seen my father in eight years. I don't want to hold it against him that I've ended up here, but... I think I do. Some part of me, at least." A steaming mug of hot chocolate was pushed in front of her, tiny marshmallows bobbing near the surface, and the ceramic burned into her palm as she wrapped her hands around it. _Shut up, shut up, stop talking, what are you doing?_ "I don't want to be like him, but when I realized I'm really not, it..."

She stopped.

A few seconds of silence, then.

"... It...?" Kotetsu repeated.

"I think I'm afraid," she whispered.

_"The moment Leader-sama finds out about you, there won't be anywhere for you to run. Nowhere for you to hide."_

No.

_'I'm terrified.'_

She snatched her hands back and stood in one fluid movement. The towel landed on the stool and she was halfway out of the apartment and towards— _an escape_ —the rain.

The downpour seemed a little heavier, now.

But then Kotetsu was in front of her and held her biceps, his hands as searing as that mug of hot chocolate. He was worried, concerned, as he looked up into her panic-stricken face. "Hey, hey," he murmured. "Kid, it's okay. Breathe. Like that. Okay. Okay, what's going on? You're afraid of something, that's okay. We can work something out. Kid. Sakura. Look at me." She turned wild eyes to his and saw his fear. Fear _for_ her. "What's scaring you?"

Her skin was like ice and her breaths were shallow, and every word she forced up her throat felt like their edges were serrated. "Everyone has a choice," she rasped. "And I'm afraid the next choice I'm going to make is going to be the wrong one."

His grip slackened as his face scrunched in confusion, and she slipped closer to the door. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for wasting your time, I..."

"Kid, you're fine," he said, and he was so honest that it _hurt_. "You know you're always welcome here when you need something, okay?"

She tried to smile. Really, she did. But all she could manage was a strangled nod as she disappeared out the door and let herself get lost in the rain.

_"You should have_ stayed dead _, little girl!"_

:: ::

Kotetsu was fucking worried.

What the hell was that? Sakura never lost her cool and he'd hurried to his window to watch her practically throw herself down the stairs and to the end of the street before she vanished in a shunshin, and he'd never seen her look like that before. Nothing had ever spooked her before and _bam_ , suddenly she was afraid that she was going to do something bad?

He didn't want her out there when she was so scared of _herself_ , but he wouldn't have been able to stop her. She was strong and stubborn and most of the time he couldn't even figure out what was going on in that head of hers, and there was no hope for him to work with that. Not with what little he really knew about her.

But man, when she started talking about her _father_. She never mentioned anything about her past before Konoha and it was probably for good reason, but shit—

The back of his neck prickled.

Kotetsu whipped around, armed with a kunai he'd hidden in the waistband of his pants. 

Soaked clothes. Rainwater.

For one entire second, his eyes met wild green ones.

And everything went dark.

(On the counter top, a mug of hot chocolate sat steaming.

Outside, it rained.)

:: ::

**_Maybe I thought I knew what it meant to go back to who I once was._ **

**_But I never once changed for the better._ **

:: ::

Kiba turned the key in the door of Kurenai's apartment and pushed, letting him and Akamaru inside. His sensei was gone for most of the evening to have dinner and spend some time with her dad, a jounin who oversaw genin and chuunin training and was long retired from field missions.

After Kumo, she'd given each of the team a copy of her key in case they needed a place to stay or they had an emergency. It was a sweet gesture and one step in the right direction for them to slowly meld themselves back into the unit they used to be. They still weren't quite at that level where they were comfortable telling her everything they were doing, especially now that there was a chance she might get too worried again...

Kiba rolled his shoulders as he shut the door behind him. 

He wasn't here to think about that. He was here to pick up a selection of scrolls Kurenai had for safekeeping.

"Do you remember if she had anythin' 'bout seals attaching themselves to chakra networks?" he asked. Akamaru padded over to the living room and poked his nose at the bookshelf.

" _No, but I do recall there being something about chakra storage mediated by seal concentration. Like the seal on the Hokage's forehead?_ "

"I could prob'ly apply some of that to the ring. Actually, I think I might be able to—"

The smell hit them almost instantly.

Coppery, fresh, _overwhelming_.

Akamaru barreled down the hallway first, his partner at his heels, and they trailed the scent to the bathroom at the end of the hall.

Kiba rammed it open with his shoulder.

The window was shut, but a trail of red ran from the sill down the wall. Spilled in the tile grout. Stained the porcelain sink. Pooled, thick and viscous.

In the middle was Tenzo's body, pale and bleeding and still.

(Rain tapped against the glass like a symphony.)

:: ::

Iruka startled out of grading his papers at the sound of knocking on the door frame.

It was only then he realized he was in his classroom rather than his office, and it was just about as dark as it could get outside. Time really must have been lost on him today, huh? He raised his head to see Kiba leaning against the door frame with his hands in his pockets and a toothy grin on his face. His shoulders were a bit wet and his brown hair drooped but there was something...

Iruka rubbed his eyes. "Sorry, sorry. I've been here a long time and I think it's getting to me." He waved the teen in. "You looked a little—" What? Odd? Off? Not too Kiba-ish? Which didn't make any sense, because Kiba was standing right in front of him and with the same greeting he always gave when he came to the Academy. Gosh, he really was tired if he was seeing things— "soggy?"

Kiba laughed. "Don't worry 'bout it, Iruka-sensei! I was in the neighborhood and wanted to stop by."

"In the rain?" Iruka questioned, aghast. He settled back into his seat and sorted through his papers with hands smeared in red correcting ink. Only a few more exams to grade, then he'd move onto the book reports. "I bet you everyone's at home enjoying some good soup and waiting for the storm to pass."

"But it never rains in Konoha!" Kiba exclaimed as he crossed the classroom to peer out the window. Iruka looked up at the distinct lack of... something. Someone. "Ya' gotta enjoy it while it lasts, y'know."

"Akamaru's not with you?"

"Nah, he was kinda tired today so he's nappin' at the apartment."

"With Sakura and Shino?"

"Yeah, I just came by to pick up some dinner for us," he said, and Iruka hid his mouth behind his hand as he frowned. That was... weird? Maybe? As far as he knew, Kiba always had Akamaru or Sakura or Shino with him if they ever went to pick up food and, didn't he see all of Team Eight hunting around the wet market stalls earlier this week? He knew from his student's complaints that Sakura could smell a good deal from a kilometer away and never got take-out unless they were too tired to make their meals or if their fridge ran empty.

He sighed and rubbed his face with both hands. He was definitely overthinking this. How long had it been since class ended?

Iruka blinked the fuzz from his gaze and saw Kiba staring out the window, pensive.

"Something on your mind?"

"... Yeah, actually. Had a question 'bout a seal I'm stuck with. Thought you could help," the teen spoke. His tone was serious, suddenly, and Iruka unconsciously straightened at the tone. Kiba always tended to focus more when he talked about seals and their theories or new sequences he discovered or ruined, but he was always so excited, not—not like _this_.

Iruka planted his forearms on the desk and leaned forward. "Don't expect a completely coherent answer," he chuckled. "I'm on quarter brain power right now, but I'm all ears!"

Kiba kept to the window, his face obscured. His hands slowly slipped out from his pockets and crossed over his chest. "I have five lock positions I want to add onto a containment matrix. I've got an even numbered seal, and I know the five locks won't work because they're odd, and I'm close to making something if I change the facet pairings so they can latch together better. But, it leaves me with five shadows I have to deal with. What do you think is better? Adding a sixth shadow for stability, or knocking down the shadow to maintain the frame?"

The teacher hummed and tapped his fingers against his desk. Well, if they were talking containment matrices, then stability was needed more than maintenance although it required more skill and time because it added on to the complexity. Sequence shadows were also a pain to work with as well, especially bending them so they didn't match their lock positions and instead matched the matrix as a whole.

"The sixth shadow, I think. It's definitely harder, but I think you can do it."

The classroom was filled with the stifled pattering of rain.

"... Nah. I don't think that's right."

"I'm sorry?"

Lightning flashed and Iruka caught Kiba's reflection in the cold window. Slitted eyes were trained on him, so utterly blank and frozen and cutting that all the muscles tensed and a slowly encroaching dread crept into his stomach, drip dropping like the rain from the tiles on the roof.

Kiba...

That couldn't be Kiba.

"Knocking down a shadow is better," Kiba said. "Because it gets rid of this useless thing."

Iruka whipped out a kunai to block the three senbon aimed at his face.

But wasn't quick enough to dodge the hail of senbon that lodged into his chest.

:: ::

**_Maybe I thought I knew what it meant to be alone again._ **

**_But I'd always been alone from the start._ **

:: ::

"Naruto."

He flinched awake at the sound of his name, one hand immediately curling around the kunai under his pillow and the other throwing an elbow out to try and clip the intruder in the side of the head. His elbow met air and a frigid wet hand pinned his weapon to the bed, and one leg was halfway to kicking out when he spied pink and green.

He relaxed and flopped back with a groan. "Sakura-chan, I thought you were tryna kill me!" he whined. "Sorry, I was takin' a nap and I wasn't supposed to sleep for so long..."

He rubbed his eyes and twitched as cold droplets fell onto his face. When he looked—really looked—at Sakura hovering above him, all he could see in the faint light of his room was that she was completely soaked from head to toe and that her skin was deathly pale.

Naruto slowly sat up, anxiety slowly burrowing up his throat. "What's wrong?" he asked. He took her hand and pulled her into a tight hug. The cold seeped through his old orange shirt and the rainwater made it stick to his skin. "You're freezing." Sakura-chan didn't say anything, but he could feel her warm breaths on his neck. One of his hands came up to cradle the back of her head. "What's goin' on? Are you okay?"

It was silent, but he waited, because Sakura-chan was one of those people he would wait for; one of those people he would chase to the ends of the earth for. She treated him like a person when no one else did and he'd found a friend in her the day she moved into the equally shitty apartment next door.

"Hey," she murmured, and he leaned his head against hers to show that he was listening. "Will you do me a favor?"

Naruto's forehead scrunched. He drew back from the hug, his hands still on her shoulders in an unconscious attempt to keep her warm. Between them, her left hand held out a bundle in a crisp plastic baggie; a stack of white envelopes bound together in twine and the top one had **_Uzumaki Naruto_ ** penned in Sakura-chan's handwriting—

" _No_." He pushed the bag away from him. "No, no way. I'm not taking these—these stupid White Letters!"

"You're the only one I can give them to."

"Whatever you're gonna do I swear you're not gonna die, I _swear_ —"

"Please," she said. She looked into his eyes, her pink hair clinging to her cheekbones like spider webs. "For me."

And Naruto hated that those words were all it took for him to crumble. The threat of tears stung his eyes as his hands dropped from her arms to take the thing that used to haunt the back of his mind the moment Ero-sennin explained what they were. He hated the letters—absolutely fucking _hated_ them—because Sakura-chan was one of the strongest, smartest people he knew. 

And if she really thought there would be a mission she wouldn't come back from, then...

"I want you to answer me honestly," he said. "Don't lie to me. Not about this." When he held the envelopes close, he knew he'd be carrying them in the lining of his jacket until he saw Sakura-chan again, safe and home. "Are you in trouble?"

She huffed a short laugh like he'd told her a dumb joke, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I'm not sure. Probably."

Naruto's voice cracked. "Sakura-chan..."

He stopped when she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and brought him into a steady hug. Sakura-chan didn't really hug people, he knew that, and every time they'd hug he'd leapt at her and she reciprocated, awkward but warm nonetheless. She never initiated. Ever.

"I'll... be gone by morning," she told him, and he buried his face in the crook of her shoulder. _Please don't go_. "Keep those safe for me, okay?"

He sniffed. "You know you're my best friend, right?" he murmured. "Like, you're really my best friend, and I love you."

Her hold tightened for a few seconds before she stood, and he stared up at her and her soaked clothes that dripped  onto his bed. More than anything he wanted to hold her hand until she promised him that they'd have breakfast outside tomorrow, when it stopped raining and there were puddles to step in and when the gray skies washed away.

"You're probably still tired," Sakura said, nodding her head towards the pillows. "Head back to bed?" She moved, and her hand was almost out of his before he gripped it again. "Hm?"

"Promise me that we'll go to Ichiraku's when you get back."

He heard her quiet chuckle. "I promise," she said. His hand felt empty when hers dropped to her side and she granted him one small smile before she was gone and the envelopes were a lead brick on his lap.

He wouldn't be able to sleep for the rest of the night.

(Tomorrow morning, it would still rain.)

:: ::

Torune smiled, friendly on all accounts, but Shino knew better than to hope.

He'd been gone for years, swept into Danzo's clutches when he was too young to know better and probably molded to think the councilman held up the goddamn _sun_. Him and a handful of other clan children had gone in a snap of Danzo's fingers and no one kicked up a fuss. The children's questions went unanswered until they simply forgot to keep asking, and the adults knew to keep their mouths shut and heads turned as Konoha's underbelly grew and grew and grew.

Torune smiled, and he looked like Sai.

"I have my duties," Torune replied, unmoving from his spot standing across his surrogate brother. A black mask still covered most of his face with the lenses of his glasses built into the cloth. He wore a short black jacket with red straps over the shoulders—identical to the one Sai wore on his mission with them. "But I couldn't help but notice the lack of you adhering to yours."

"I know my duty, though I do apologize that we can't all be lap dogs like yourself."

Torune blinked. "When did you get such a mouth?"

"Woof."

" _Shino_." He nearly laughed as the rain crashed into the dirt around their feet and slowly churned it to mud. His amusement melted off his face, though, when Shino's expression didn't waver. "It doesn't have to be like this, you know."

"I feel no need to listen to someone so obviously brainwashed by a man who deserves to drown in all the blood he's spilled," Shino growled.

Torune narrowed his eyes. "I implore you to choose your next words very carefully—"

"Or what? You'll kill me?" the younger of the two posed dryly. "Do you think that threat is enough to scare me?" He straightened, and impossibly, Torune thought he might actually be taller than him. "After everything, you're the last person I need to hear this from. Why?" His hands balled in the pockets of his jacket. "You may have been my brother once, but you support the man that wants my pack's heads on silver platters."

Support the man that...? Torune shook his head. "Danzo-sama wants what's best for the village."

Shino scoffed and turned, his chest constricting with the loss he'd never gotten over and the sudden disappointment that flooded his veins. "Goodbye, Torune."

One step forward. Another. Half of a third step, then—

"Are you headed back to Sakura's apartment?" the ROOT member questioned. Shino paused as lightning crackled. “Kiba isn't there, last I checked, but perhaps Sakura is on her way back from visiting Hagane Kotetsu."

Shino slowly turned back around. "What have you done?"

"Ah, so this is what it takes to upset you—"

" _What have you done?!_ " Shino snarled. Torune traced the rigid line of the teen's shoulders and how his hands were now free of his pockets, splayed and ready to attack when need be.

(This was the boy who used to tug his shirt and ask if he wanted to go to the forest to collect new insects, the boy Torune could never say no to; Shino had been so small before, chubby-cheeked and solemn-faced as he whispered to his bugs and as all the other kids his age gave him a wide berth.)

"I did what Danzo-sama knows is right," he admitted.

Shino saw red and lunged, kunai in hand, swiping sideways. Torune bent out of the way and spun to deliver a kick right in the center of the teen's stomach, one that was blocked with crossed arms but sent the younger skidding back, leaving tracks in the mud. Torune followed, one hand shooting out to grip his wrist and twisting until the kunai dropped and the other winding back to punch the other across the face.

Shino took the blow in stride, hacked out a wad of blood, and _yanked_ one of those red jacket straps to smash their foreheads together. When Torune stumbled, he snatched back his wrist and retreated a few meters back to widen the distance.

Harsh breaths tumbled out of Shino's mouth as he watched the man regain his bearings.

"You've gotten brutal," Torune noted with an airy chuckle. "I didn't think you were capable."

"... You've been gone for a long time," Shino remarked.

Torune reached into one of his side pouches and pulled out a fist, whatever was in it not visible through the thicket of rain. Water droplets stuck to both their glasses and they stared, Torune in his impassivity and Shino in his rage.

Thunder exploded overhead.

Shino took hold of a single senbon. Held it like a kunai.

Torune drew in air and prayed to a god he didn't believe in.

(Now or never.)

They ran towards one another and Shino slashed—

It happened too quickly. It didn't register. He shouldn't have to register it because something like this shouldn't have happened even in the circumstances even in the middle of an empty path even in the rain and, how, he didn't know how, he can't even fathom how, because Torune didn't dodge.

_He leaned in._

—across Torune's throat.

. . .

The world stopped turning. Just for a moment. For a breath.

A soft exhalation.

Blood spurted out from the deep slice in his neck, the carotid arteries cleanly cut and the windpipe whole and choking. Red trickled down to his black shirt, mingled in rain and sweat and spit. Torune swayed briefly before he toppled against Shino, a statue rooted to the ground and his arm still outstretched, his senbon clutched in a white-knuckled grip as his brother's blood seeped beneath his fingernails.

"I... I don't..." Shino whispered. His breathing shallowed and quickened, and his vision started going in and out. "I can heal— _I can heal_ —"

"Do... don... n't..." Torune wheezed. "Sh... 'm... sor... rry..."

" _I can heal_ —"

"... N... o..."

One gloved, shaky fist rose between them. When Torune unclenched it, a bright red sealing tag that made Shino's knees buckle was in his palm. The tag had been specifically made for Torune so that upon his death, the _Rinkaichu_ housed in his skin would perish the moment all his chakra fizzled out of his core and...

And Shino's muscles seized as he watched Torune press the seal against his own chest.

"Wa... nt'd... see... yo... u... h... ppy..." he puffed. "Lov... yo... s'mu... ch..." A small, broken gasp. "Co... dn't... put... lo... ve... over... du... ty..."

Shino's glasses fogged up, scorching tears welling in his eye. " _Why_ ?" he croaked. His hand holding the senbon, still outstretched, started to shake. " _Why_ would you..."

Torune fell heavier against him. "S'me... one... ha... d... to..."

The body went limp and slumped off Shino's shoulder, landing in the mud with a soft _thump_.

And it rained.

He didn't know how long he was frozen there, choking on both his tears and the scent of the blood _he_ spilled. He was sure he blacked out for at least a minute, because one moment he was on his feet and the next he was on his knees in a puddle of mud and water and red and the body next to him didn't move, didn't breathe, didn't speak.

Someone had to.

Someone had to.

_Someone had to._

"Shino?"

He raised his head, expressionless, to the sight of Aoba at the end of the path with his hand over his mouth.

"There was a—a report about a disturbance in this area and I went to check it out and..." Aoba took an unconscious step back. "Shino, what have you done?!"

_What have you done?!_

"I..." Shino's vision went out. In. Out. In. " _I_ —"

"Shino!" On the opposite side of the path, Sakura touched down onto the mud, geared up and packed and panicked. She took in the scene quickly, eyes first on Torune, then Shino, then Aoba as her lips pressed into a grim line and she was at her friend's side in an instant, her gaze never leaving the horror-struck jounin. "Shino," she repeated, quieter, "is he dead?"

Dead.

Shino exhaled harshly, off-kiltered. Why was it so hard to breathe? "Dead," he repeated.

He wanted to throw up.

Sakura wrapped her arms around his shoulders and helped him onto his feet. But he was numb and cold and was only vaguely aware of his surroundings—all there was were his screaming kikai and the pouring rain and the thunder and the flashes of lightning and Sakura said something else he didn't hear and, everything was loud. So loud.

But he heard none of it.

_What have you done?!_

Aoba turned to leave, more than likely to raise the alarm or get back up and he saw Sakura leaning forward, shouting at him to stop.

Another figure dropped right into Aoba, a hand against a pressure point in his neck as they tussled on the ground for a few moments until the jounin went limp. Unconscious, but alive.

Shino willed himself to re-focus, and the figure side-steps around Aoba's body as they ran towards them.

"Kurenai-sensei?"

"Go!" Kurenai ordered. She urged them down the path—away from the bodies. From the blood. From Torune. "Kiba and Akamaru have already left with Tenzo and we have to run _now_ before the rest of Konoha gets alerted!"

"What happ—"

"They set you up!" Kurenai directed them off the main roads. " _They set you all up_!"

They ran through empty streets in the pitch darkness of the night, mud on their sandals as they scaled the high walls to avoid the gates and took to the forests outside the village.

They ran, and they didn't stop.

They ran, and Shino could only think of one thing.

_When he killed Torune, it rained._

:: ::

**_My name was Aburame Torune._ **

**_And I know the world would never remember my name._ **


	12. Team

Shino threw up.

Twelve hours after...  _after_ , he was clutching the toilet bowl heaving hot pot and bile and everything else in his stomach as hot tears streamed down his face. Sakura's right arm wound around his middle to keep him steady and her left hand smoothed his hair back as she let him cry.

The bathroom door was open, its yellow light pouring into the inn room where Kiba paced back and forth in front of the door as he muttered to himself. Akamaru pressed himself into one of the corners, trying to shrink his hulking form as much as possible as he whined as quietly as he could with his paws over his head and his eyes screwed shut.

Kurenai sat in a worn chair pushed up against the single bed. Tenzo laid pale and bandaged without a single stir of consciousness, but he was  _breathing breathing breathing_  and that was all that mattered. That was all Shino cared about until he was ripped from the body before his chakra levels could baseline and make him pass out in his own sick.

And when Tenzo was finally out of the deepest pits of his injuries—the deep gashes in his stomach, the holes from the caltrops embedded in his back, the kunai-inflicted cuts, the fire jutsu-induced burns, the senbon-causing puncture wounds, the strained muscles, the shattered rib cage, the snapped bones, the swollen eye, the bruised neck, the chakra exhaustion, the internal bleeding, the pierced organs—miraculously, and he was able to start that  _slow_ healing process. Shino made sure a small colony had made a temporary home in his system to monitor his progress and alert him if any complications rose.

Well. Any  _further_ complications.

"We need to take him to an actual hospital," Shino gasped after a particularly long retch. "He needs fluids and constant observation. I may be able to make my own saline drip for him, but it needs to be under sterile conditions. While it's possible, I would pre... pre—" He hurled into the bowl, and Sakura passed him a damp cloth to wipe his mouth. "Th-Thank you. I would  _prefer_ professional-level sterility."

"Can we not take him ta' some clinic here?" Kiba asked.

Kurenai shook her head. "Meadow Country is allied with Fire and we're only an hour or so from Kusagakure," she said, and Kiba groaned. "Depending on the severity of what they'll be accusing us of, there could be sweeps for us, or at the very least our photos or information will be distributed to places they may believe we'll end up." Sakura rubbed circles into Shino's back when he shivered, pressing his forehead against his arm. "We won't know until we can get our hands on an updated Bingo Book, but..." Kurenai sighed and reached out to grasp one of Tenzo's hands. Her thumb caressed his calloused palms. "I don't know what we can do."

Kiba stopped in the middle of the room and glanced at the floor. All around them were the things he and Sakura rushed to pack before high-tailing it out of the village—clothes and scrolls filled with his seals texts, his favorite jacket, and rolls of Kumo-red bandages to last him a year. His hand brushed against the tattoo on his shoulder where he kept all those forbidden things, rings and tomes and the notes that could get him incarcerated for life.

Sakura packed her trivia books, the small keychain from Naruto, all her weapons, all the scrolls that used to stay tacked above her bed that she'd stare at when she thought no one was looking, the rope belt Killer Bee wouldn't let her leave without. Then she’d snuck to Naruto’s apartment to hand off that bag of new White Letters they’d only finished writing days ago.

They made sure to get all of Shino's things, too. Everything he couldn't live without; the poison kit Tenzo gifted him, his favorite books, his entire personal medical inventory, the white flak vest C gave him.

A weak laugh fell from his lips. "They really went and fuckin' framed us, didn't they?" He ran both his fingers through his hair. "No, it was smart. Fuckin' brilliant. Everyone was still dealin' with the news that an Akatsuki member got ganked and right in the middle of all the bullshit, the  _motherfucker_ , rips the goddamn rug from under our feet!"

Shino tried to push himself onto unstable feet. "I need to check up on everyone else."

"Stay down," Sakura ordered quietly. He kept trying, but lost his footing when she tugged and held him to the floor. Her eyes were glassy and withdrawn, trained on an invisible spot on the wall. "Rest."

"I need—"

" _Rest_."

"He made this the first move, of course he made this the first move! We were so worried that he was so damn quiet and didn't think he had the fucking balls to do something like this!  _He played us like we were the whole fucking orchestra_!" Kiba seethed. His nails sharpened and his fangs poked out of his mouth as he started pacing again. "And now we're what? Rogues? Oh, that's fuckin rich. Couldn't kill us, so do the next best thing: get the rest of the world on our asses for some chump change!  _Fuck_!"

The silencing seals in the room shimmered. Tenzo wasn't awake to make note of it.

"It was incredibly bold of them. One wrong move could have upended their whole plan, and the fact they'd done something to all of you in multiple locations within the village..." Kurenai sighed wearily and held her free hand to her face. "The whole plan to debase you reeks of one made by a desperate man, and I hate to admit he'd done it so well."

"I bet he's had practice," spat Kiba. "How many people d'ya think he's murdered 'cause they knew too much? Huh? All the bodies in unmarked graves or taken care of in a different country or burned to ash and mixed in the dirt so no one ever found them, just— _ARGH_!"

He slumped onto the floor in a boneless heap, the fight draining out of him in an instant and a new type of fatigue winding in the sinews of his muscles. He looked towards the bathroom and wilted further at the sight; Shino had passed out, finally, and was getting the break he needed after... Fuck, after  _Torune_. They'd booked it for hours on end before making it to this town and once they'd been able to get all in one place, Shino had three separate panic attacks, almost sent himself into a coma, and ended with puking his guts out for the past hour.

He was curled against Sakura now, all his color gone and sweat clinging to him like a second skin. Terrible. He looked terrible and all one hundred shades of awful and it made Kiba himself want to throw up, because Shino had been doing so good these past few months. He would push everything down. Everything about Torune—he'd shove all those memories and lock them away until they bubbled up too far and he'd have another full on breakdown when the truth inevitably shot out where he didn't want to see it.

And Sakura? She was... quiet. Unbearably quiet. She'd been so panicked and scared and frazzled when they first collided back in her apartment after she said she bolted from Kotetsu's apartment and after he'd discovered Tenzo's body, and she held up her fear until they crossed the border and she simply... shut down. Her face blanked and her gaze went distant and she talked in short, clipped sentences.

She was still responsive, at least, and calm enough to stay aware. But the fact that she'd even been driven to that state...

_'Danzo. I'll kill him. I'll kill him. I'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'llkillhimI'LLKILLHIM.'_

Kiba rubbed his eyes and raised his head to the thin cut of light streaming into the room from the gap between the drawn curtains. It was what, noon? Early afternoon? Something like that, they'd left Konoha sometime during the night, so...

He pushed himself to his feet. "I'm gonna get us somethin' ta' eat," he said. "Scout out the village, see if there's any Konoha-nin 'round." He grimaced, reaching up to yank the hitai-ate off his forehead and tossing it wherever, just somewhere  _away_ from him. But his face softens when he looks at his partner who let a small whimper escape his muzzle. "I think you should stay in the room, at least 'til I get back. I promise ta' bring you back somethin' good, yeah?"

Akamaru managed a low woof before he crawled to lay atop Kurenai's feet. She instantly dipped her hand to thread her fingers through his fur, and Kiba sighed in relief.

"No problem."

He retreated towards the door, made sure there were senbon in his sleeves and at his waist and tucked in his sandals, and slipped out of the room.

:: ::

It was a bright, sunny day on this side of Meadow Country. They were in a tourist town known for the temple at the north end of the districts and some other smaller shrines scattered here and there and were populated by a civilian community. Kiba deliberately heavied his steps as he walked and made a show of looking around like he was interested; he was probably the most likely to blend in with the crowds with his brown hair and black eyes, and he hadn’t even touched a jar of Inuzuka paint upon returning to Konoha after Kumo.

Didn't smell like anyone's overtly lurking on the rooftops. Didn't seem to be any other shinobi around, Konoha or otherwise, but that could just mean they weren't idiots and he had to be more careful.

After he made three different circuits around the town, every now and again asking different locals different directions to different shops whose names he'd picked up from mindless conversations, he ducked into a restaurant a few blocks away from the inn.

"Hello!" the hostess at the front greeted politely. "Table for one?"

"I was actually wonderin' if you do take out here?"

"Yes, sir. Would you like to see a menu?"

"That'd be great, thanks."

She handed him one of the menus from a clear plastic holder attached to the side of the podium which he took with a smile and leaned by the door as he flipped it open. Oh, cool. It was a curry house. Should be filling enough and maybe he'd get a light soup for Shino until he could stomach something heavier...

His eyes flickered above the laminated pages to scan the seats, and the few people that occupied the tables themselves with idle chatter or the latest newspaper. But just as he was about to drop his eyes back to the menu, he saw  _him_.

His back was facing the curry house entrance, allowing Kiba the full view of his long-sleeved kimono shirt and pitch black hair that spiked at the back.

Kiba huffed.

What a terrible idea to hide your face when there was a clear view of your clan symbol stamped right below your neck.

He smiled at the hostess when he walked back to the podium and ordered the curry plates. Shrimp for Sakura, chicken for Shino and a side of miso soup, tofu for Kurenai-sensei, two beefs for him and Akamaru, paid with some of the money they’d gotten from their S-rank. After the hostess kindly let him know that his orders would be out in twenty, thirty minutes max, he flashed her a grin and strode past her podium right towards that corner table.

And plopped down right across from Uchiha Sasuke.

He stared at the taut rage that lined Sasuke's shoulders as it curled up to his jaw and flashed in his eyes; bright, red, unforgiving. They were older now, older when they saw each other last, but back then Sasuke hadn't defected and Kiba was getting shipped off to his death.

"Fancy seein' you," he greeted, canines glinting. "Came to visit the temple?"

Sasuke was silent for a moment. "Inuzuka," he said once recognition piqued in his swirling crimson eyes. "Did Konoha send you?"

"What, like, ta' get curry? Nah, I don't think they'd send me so far just for that." He wrinkled his nose when the Uchiha's face remained completely impassive. "Eesh. You don't see a classmate in three years and suddenly it's like you can't laugh at a joke—"

"Answer the question."

Kiba snorted. "Yeah, okay. Cut right to the chase, huh?" He threw an arm over the back of his chair. "But no. Konoha and I aren't exactly best friends for fuckin' life at the moment, and you can check it yourself once the new Bingo Book update circulates." He hummed, a sudden thought crossing his mind. "Orochimaru here with you?"

"That's none of your business." He paused, eyes slowly sinking back to their usual murky black as he appraised the shinobi before him. "Konoha. Don't tell me you've suddenly had a change of heart and gone  _rogue_."

"Suddenly?" Kiba laughed as he rubbed the back of his head. "Eh, we weren't really friends back in the village, so I don't blame ya' for not knowin' me at all." His grin widened. "Ain't nothin' sudden 'bout this, Uchiha. It's actually been a long time comin', if we're bein' real right now. But that shit still pisses me off, so let's talk 'bout somethin' else." He set a forearm on the table and leaned forward. "Is Orochimaru here with you?"

Sasuke said nothing. Never changed his face.

Kiba blinked. "Are you always like this?"

"I would ask you the same question."

"That's fair," he shrugged. A waiter came up to ask if he'd like a drink while he waited and he declined with another grin and shake of his head, and when he looked back forward he spotted two people walking towards their table.

He groaned, what little good mood he mustered instantly souring.

"Kiba-kun? Well, if this isn't a pretty little surprise," Orochimaru smiled as he took the empty seat beside Sasuke. His lackey—Yakushi?—seated himself to Kiba's left and eyed him with a cool calculation. But Kiba's gaze never left Orochimaru's yellow eyes and pale skin and never had he wanted to be back in that inn more in his entire  _fucking_ life. "It's been years since we've met, little dog. You've grown. Are you here with your friends? Shino-kun?  _Sakura-chan?_ "

He was too tired to deal with this bullshit.

"Fuck off."

Yakushi shifted slightly and Sasuke grew more attentive, his gaze flickering back and forth between his mentor and his old classmate, and Kiba knew when he was walking on thin ice. It was already a lot to be under the scrutiny of a batshit-insane sannin, but it was even worse when the batshit-insane sannin had him outnumbered in a country that Konoha had every right to run investigations in.

But he was  _tired_. Over twelve hours ago, everything had gone to shit. It was just as bad as the Coliseum and as bad as learning that Sai was nothing but another one of Danzo's mindless puppets—and somehow, it was a little worse. Because he and Akamaru thought that Tenzo was dead and suddenly there was something that scared Sakura enough to shatter her foundation and then Shino had been tricked into killing his cousin and then Kurenai found them telling them they needed to  _leave_ and honestly—

He looked into those yellow eyes and sneered.

Honestly? He had enough to deal with right now, and he wasn't going to let this bastard make it any worse.

Orochimaru set his chin on his knuckles, positively enthralled by the turn of events. "Why would I do that when this looks so much more exciting?" Long, pale fingers tapped against an equally pale cheek. "So, Kiba-kun, what brings you to this adorable little pit stop? Came to visit the temple?"

Kiba wanted to kick himself in the teeth.

"Nah, I'm not a temple kinda guy," he said. The senbon lined all along his arms beneath his jacket sleeves were ready for use at any time. What the fuck was he supposed to do here? "What are the chances you'll, like, actually leave me the hell alone and we can pretend this never happened?"

Orochimaru quirked a brow. "That would depend on my mood, but I'm sure you'll find a way to surprise me if you play your cards right." He brushed his hair out of his face. "But Kiba-kun, it's been so long since we've last seen each other! Right in the middle of the Forest of Death during your's and Sasuke-kun's Chuunin exams, was it?"

Kiba felt Sasuke's burning gaze pierce through his skull.

"Yeah, can't say I've missed you since then," he huffed. "And before you ask, no, Konoha didn't send me. Like I told Uchiha, we aren't on good terms right now."

Yakushi's observing him like he was a particularly interesting spec on a microscope slide. He must've not known anything about the team or Sakura, at the very least. Which would have been reassuring if Orochimaru wasn't a legitimate psychopath that always had two back up plans and an ulterior motive every time he opened his mouth.

"Have you  _ever_ been on good terms?" Orochimaru questions, and it was sickening how genuine he could make himself sound. Sasuke tensed and Yakushi laced his fingers together, and Kiba really, really just wanted to eat his damn curry. "What was it exactly that Sakura-chan said to me when I told her I'd kill the Sandaime? Kiba-kun, can you recall?"

Kiba tapped his fingers against the table. There were five viable exits he could take if he needed to run. The back door was the farthest and was probably at the other side of the restaurant and blocked by staff, and the front door was in his direct line of sight but spilled into the busy street where civilians could be caught in the crossfire. The two destructive options included either breaking through the window or blowing up a hole in the wall, but Yakushi was in his way and he’d feel a little bad causing property damage from a place he wanted to get food from. The shunshin probably was his best bet if he appeared on this roof or a roof nearby, but the three of them could,  _would_ , catch up easily if they wanted to, and that’s just another confrontation he didn’t want right now.

He shrugged. "I dunno. Somethin' 'bout makin' the bastard choke or some shit?"

"You didn't like the Sandaime Hokage?" Yakushi spoke for the first time since their arrival.

"Don't worry," Kiba grinned. Faintly, a shiver ran along the seal on his tongue that had been layered and layered with concealments over the years, starting from Kumo and stacking them up so thickly that they hadn’t even been found out by Morino Ibiki of T&I. But every now and again the cursed seal burned, and so did his hatred for everyone that had been involved. "He didn't like me either."

"Why did you go rogue?" Sasuke cut in.

"Didn't go rogue on purpose," he answered glibly. "Don't even know what I'm gettin' charged for—didn't I already tell you ta' look for the new round of Bingo Books?"

"An Inuzuka gone rogue," Yakushi noted, his tone bland but his disbelief palpable. Orochimaru hummed, his lips twisting back into that smile that always looked as if he knew something everyone else didn't.

"Not just an Inuzuka, I'm assuming," he said. "An Aburame too, correct?" His eyes gleamed. "And a  _Hoshigaki_ as well."

Kiba placed both forearms on the table and leaned forward, all traces of humor dropping from his face. He didn't owe them any explanations, but he'd be lying if he didn't think the reactions from that were a little funny; Sasuke's frown had gone pronounced and looked halfway to pissed off with all the questions that were probably wracking his brain and Yakushi had never seemed more confused.

"Are you done?"

A short laugh burst deep from Orochimaru's chest. "Kiba-kun, you're a delight. You used to be so afraid of me."

(Blood-stained Coliseum floors. An ink lion ripping open his shoulder. Choosing pack over Tsume and Hana and Kuromaru and the Haimaru. Sakura's fear. Shino's panic. Tenzo's body.)

"You used to be scarier," Kiba replied truthfully.

The hostess came by their table with a bag of takeout, to which Kiba thanked her for with a grin and stood up from his seat. Picking up the bag with one hand and stuffing the other hand in a jacket pocket, he regarded the three missing-nin still seated at the table.

"Nice chat, I guess? Hope I don't see you guys anytime soon."

Sasuke and Yakushi turned their gazes to Orochimaru, who stared a little too long with a little too creepy of a smile.

"A shame that would be," he said. "You've put me in such a good mood that I've somehow been elevated to graciousness." He finally broke his stare and waved a dismissive hand. "Send my regards to Shino-kun and Sakura-chan, it truly has been far too long."

Kiba kept the look of disgust on his face long enough to shunshin the  _fuck_ out of there.

:: ::

When he got back, Shino was in the middle of chewing a soldier pill to Kurenai's chagrin and Sakura's disapproving frown.

Kiba faltered. "I was only gone a couple hours! Why the hell's he already awake?"

"I wish I could tell you, but he startled himself awake and now insists that he'll only go back to sleep once he runs a thorough check up on each of us," Kurenai sighed. "As you know, each of you can be particularly stubborn when you want to be, so..." Her gaze wandered over to their medic. "I don't want to see you with another soldier pill unless it's an emergency, understand?"

"Yes, sensei," Shino replied.

"And if you start to get nauseous, let us know right away."

"Yes, sensei."

Kurenai worried her bottom lip, looking as if she had more to say but didn't quite muster herself enough to say it, and hung back to watch as Shino raised a pair of glowing green hands to Sakura, one on her chest and one on her back. Both of them were sitting in the bathroom doorway.

"I hope curry's okay," Kiba says as he set the take out bag on the small side table and undid the knot. "Sorry if it's not as hot, had to make a detour to make sure no one followed me back."

Kurenai smiled. "No, this is perfect. Thank you, Kiba."

"You're exhausted, as to be expected," Shino muttered as he ran a scan through Sakura's system. "Chakra stores are about halfway replenished, leg muscles are worn which can be fixed with standard painkillers and cooling chakra..." Sakura turned her head away from the side he sat on, her brows pulled together and a thousand and one things speeding just behind her eyes.

( _Nowhere to run,_  Sasori's voice whispered in her ear. It was mocking and taunting and held her throat like he was standing right in front of her. _Nowhere to hide. Who do you think you are to believe that you can keep running from Leader-sama for so long?_ )

"—your arm."

Sakura blinked, wearily turning her head. "What about it?"

"You've kept it attached to your pathways for over twenty-four hours, and while it isn't unusual for you to expend your chakra usage on it for missions that require it, we're currently in a position where you can remove the prosthesis," he said. She glanced away and pulled her puppet arm into her lap.

"I'll need it in case something else happens."

Shino linked his fingers with hers and gave her hand a squeeze before he heaved himself over to Akamaru.

_'It's almost a tragedy,'_  Sakura thought mildly as she leaned against one corner of the bathroom and breathed,  _'that this was how we ended up.'_

And it was another tragedy in itself that her mind wasn't just dwelling on being forcibly driven out of the village. Of course it was part of it—they wouldn't be stuck in an inn room in the middle of Meadow otherwise—but it was far from the first time that luck turned them away.

They’d been silenced, branded, abandoned, ambushed, left on the enemy’s doorstep like a gift—and yet, there was still  _more_. There was always more. Sasori and his voice that wouldn’t leave her head, the re-ignited fear of the Akatsuki that had been re-instilled after plunging those swords through his puppet heart, the fallout Shino and Kiba had with their families because of what she’d dragged them into, the death of Aburame Torune by  _Shino’s_  hand because Danzo was a brilliant coward. What else had been done to smear their names? Aoba had seen them, he couldn’t have been there by coincidence—what did that mean for everyone else they knew? Iruka? Kotetsu? Were they alright or did they…?

( _You're Akatsuki's. How long did you think you could keep this up?_  Sasori grins)

Sakura tucked her legs against her chest and dropped her forehead onto her knees.

Shino placed one hand on Akamaru's head and one on his chest, and he was halfway through his examination when his glasses slobbered off his face from the sudden force of the dog's licks.

"Yes, I'm alright, but may I please—"

Another series of licks. His hair stuck up at the front. He sighed.

Kiba passed the take out boxes to everyone in the room, miso soup to Shino first, and plopped down next to the bathroom doorway just on the other side of where Sakura was half hidden. He waited until everyone had at least two bites of their food before he cleared his throat.

"So, uh, Orochimaru's in town."

Silence.

“And Uchiha Sasuke. And Yakushi. They were at the curry house and we... talked?"

A piece of Kurenai's tofu hovered just in front of her mouth as she took in his words, her red eyes crushed with the weight of what she just watched happen to her kids. Back during the Chuunin Exams the mere mention of Orochimaru's name had her wary, but him in such close contact with her kids filled her with every need to run him through if he ever decided to touch them one more time.

"What did he do to you?" she questioned sharply, those crushed eyes now incensed as she set her food on the side table and pushed herself up. "Did he hurt you? Threaten you? If he has—"

"I don't think it was anythin' too bad? Like yeah, Orochimaru gets off on power trips and shit but I think he was too busy with whatever evil bastards do, and he was being his usual creepy self and Yakushi and Uchiha were lost the entire time. It didn't seem like they knew anythin' 'bout us," Kiba said. He shoved a hunk of beef into his mouth. "It's—I dunno, Orochimaru's somethin' else. He said he was 'bein' gracious' when I left so I didn't think any of them were gonna follow me—but! But, don't worry, I stayed away from the inn for like half an hour to make sure I didn't have a tail when I came back."

"It means he'll leave you alone for now." Sakura's voice traveled softly into the main room, her whole head obscured by the bathroom wall but her legs sticking out where they all could see. "If he said he won't go after you, he won't." A short exhale. "That's part of his game."

Kurenai didn't know  _how_ Sakura was in-tuned enough to Orochimaru's machinations to know how he worked, and how she was so sure of herself that she had resigned herself to the fact, but it wasn't a discussion for today. She accepted the information with a frown. "Even so, our location is compromised. He might not care that we're here, but he still knows we're here, and that's a problem. We need to move—tonight, if we can."

"Which brings us back to our original discussion. The location must first and foremost be able to provide medical access," Shino said. He patted Akamaru's head a few times before he motioned for Kiba to come closer. "Our top priority right now is making sure Tenzo-san makes it through the week."

( _Dance for the Akatsuki, little pup,_  Sasori drawled.)

Sakura drew in a silent, shaky breath.

"Don't you have a friend in Suna?" Kiba asked, angling his head towards the bathroom. "Kankuro, right? The guy who made your arm. You think he could help us?"

"Regardless if he wants to, the Godaime Kazekage's reign was the beginning of the strongest allyship between Suna and Konoha," Shino replied when Sakura didn't. "Wind Country is just as bad as staying in Fire Country, and even if wind is largest in terms of square meters, Suna-nin conducts such frequent sweeps that we can't stay in the same place longer than two weeks, at most. Not to mention we would have to traverse through near-constant sandstorms to get from location to location." He glanced at the bed as he held green hands to Kiba's chest and back. "Tenzo-san will need longer to recover and a less harsh environment to make the journey."

Wrapped in swathes of bandages, Tenzo quietly breathed.

"Would it help that Kankuro's their Ambassador?" Kiba tried.

Kurenai shook her head. "Even worse. People have seen him and Sakura together, and if we're found in or near Suna, it could start an international scandal where a governmental authority could be accused of harboring wanted criminals."

Kiba ran a hand over his face as a few kikai crawled over his shoulder. He could feel the medical chakra winding through his system, poking and prodding at sore muscles and flickering under the seal on his shoulder.  _Wanted criminals_. Right, that's what they were now. "How... How about Kumo?"

Shino sighed. "Kumo?"

"They said we could go back—"

"Just because they may allow us in doesn't mean we should take the chance. Why? We were prisoners and our friends... they went behind the Raikage's back to let us go," Shino frowned. "We have allies, but we can't go to them. Not for this."

( _Nowhere to run,_  Sasori laughed.  _Nowhere to hide._ )

Akamaru raised his head slightly at the sight of Sakura's legs curling closer to herself.

"Besides, Kumo is too far away of a trek for Tenzo-san to make," he noted as he hoisted himself up to his feet to walk the few steps to Kurenai's chair. One glowing hand on her chest, the other on her back. "We need somewhere relatively close, non-Fire affilia... ted...?"

He trailed off, staring blankly at his teacher. She placed a hand on top of one of his own, her brows creasing.

"I..." He blinked. "... I didn't know you were pregnant."

"I-I'm  _pregnant_?" Kurenai stammered.

"She's  _pregnant_?!" Sakura and Kiba shouted, the former throwing herself forward until she was half-sprawled in the bathroom doorway. Akamaru squeaked out an alarmed woof.

Kiba scrambled to his feet, curry forgotten as his legs started pacing. "Okay, okay, okay, okay." He clasped his hands together and pressed it to his mouth. "Okay. So. We need to find a secure place for Tenzo-san  _and_ Kurenai-sensei 'cause... fuck, we're rogues. We're rogues." He locked his hands behind his head. "Fuck. Okay. First things first, we need to pick a place."

Shino pressed his fingers against his forehead. "We'd have to lay low in a small village—"

"—where we can avoid Konoha-nin—"

"—with a viable medical facility—"

"—and stay in for the months sensei can't travel—"

"—that's both safe and secure for all of us, especially Tenzo-san and sensei—"

Sakura watched the muted chaos in this inn room in this tourist town in Meadow Country. She could taste the desperation in the air on the back of her tongue; right where the seal lay, right where everything started to go wrong.

Kurenai was frozen in her seat, eyes on her two boys as she held her middle. Shino and Kiba were frenzied in tandem, speaking all obvious things but never finding the answer they needed— _Suna has friends but would turn us in, Kumo loves us but they could kill us, Taki isn’t an option they would kill any type of Konoha-nin on sight, Tani might work but it’s sandwiched between Fire and Wind Country and bows to both, Iwa would gut us, why the hell did we run near Kusa in the first place_ —

( _You're Akatsuki's, you're Akatsuki's, you're Akatsuki's,_  Sasori chanted.)

Sakura paled as her stomach grew queasy.

( _You're Akatsuki's, you're Akatsuki's, you're Akatsuki's._ )

She dug her fingers into the flesh of her right arm and Akamaru took a careful step towards her with a low, questioning whine.

When she was three, she asked her father why she'd never seen the moon or the stars or the sun. She asked why the rain never stopped. She asked if teaching her to throw kunai was part of a game. She asked why she needed to protect herself from people that tried to kill him.

She asked him if she would ever get to wear a pretty cloak like his. Her father hid a sad smile and told her, _I hope you never do._

Sakura had always thought herself as a practical sort of person. Maybe it was because her father had been her best friend and she'd never known another person her age until Kiba. Or maybe day in and day out, excellence had been expected of her from Konan-san and Kakuzu-san and  _Leader-sama_. She had to be strong or else she'd die, she had to be brave or else the monsters in Heaven's Gate Lake would swallow her whole.

Or at least, that's what her father told her happened to kids who didn't eat their vegetables.

And she had always thought she would have no one to look out for except her father who knew about survival better than she ever would.

Then Kiba first approached her when she was seven. Shino sacrificed his eye for them and Tenzo took their side when she was twelve. Kurenai cried for them through sobbed apologies for hours when she was fourteen.

And now she was fifteen and they were all in the same room, terrified for the future.

And her?

Sakura huffed a humorless laugh to herself as she hauled herself onto unsteady feet.

She was terrified too; terrified that she wasn't three years old anymore, and more than terrified that for everyone in this room, she would wrangle the moon and the stars and the sun.

( _You're Akatsuki's, you're Akatsuki's, you're Akatuski's._ )

Sakura clenched her fists, and yielded.

_She was Akatsuki's._

"Storm," she announced firmly, loud enough to carry over the room and causing the conversation to fall down to a hush. Kiba halted his steps and turned around, wrinkling his nose.

"Huh?"

"We're going to Storm Country," she said. "It's right next to Meadow, not allied with Fire, has a hospital capable of taking care of Tenzo-san, and will have safe enough arrangements for us to recuperate and for sensei to be comfortable in her pregnancy." She straightened her posture and crossed her arms. "The other choices pose too much of a risk for at least one of us. Storm will be safe, I'll make sure of it."

There was an elephant in the room, and even if Kurenai couldn't clearly point it out, she could see it in the apprehension in Shino's shoulders and the nervous tension that hung off Kiba's face.

"What's in Storm?" Kurenai questioned, because it was odd that Sakura hadn't mentioned it in the beginning and, truthfully, Storm wasn't a bad idea. Fire was never friendly with them and they never asked for help with their tail between their legs; as far as she knew, their shinobi and Konoha's shinobi were sure to keep a wide berth of each other unless they couldn't help it. They were heavily isolationist, she recalled. A hub of criminals and refugees.

And Sakura met her eyes, green and sure and defeated. "My father."

"Nope!" Kiba refused immediately. His arms shot up into an 'x' shape. "Nu-uh. I don't have a death wish, I'm okay with never meeting your dad, no thank you. Any other options?"

"I wasn't giving you an option," she said, ignoring the way he sputtered.

"You father aside, have you forgotten his...  _management_?" Shino put out hesitantly. "How do you know that they won't kill us on sight? That they would even give us the time of day, considering we were previously Konoha-nin?" His worry deepened. "And would they even begin to help us if we decide not to, ah, help along with whatever aims they have?"

Sakura avoided their eyes. "I already know too much, and once they see I've become more capable than I was when I was seven, then they'll have use of me for something. You won't have to worry about anything—I'll make sure one of the conditions of me being reinstated is that you all will be left alone."

"That's..." Kiba and Shino exchanged startled glances, and the former plowed on. "Sakura, what about you?"

"What about me?"

"What— _you_!" he exclaimed. "When we get there, what are they going to do to you?!"

She pressed her lips together. "It doesn't matter."

"Bullshit." Shino stalked up to her. "Don't think I've forgotten that one of your father's colleagues nearly killed you not too long ago—"

Kurenai held a hand over her mouth. Akamaru tucked his tail between his legs.

"—and you're willing to walk into a place full of them for what?" He shook his head, jerky and short. "No, we're not going. Not if it means you're going to get hurt."

"It's for your security," she disagreed.

"It will be your  _suicide_!"

"Sakura, look," Kiba pleaded. He grasped her upper arm and looked up into that face etched in stone—stupid height, stupid pack member, stupid lack of  _self-preservation_ — "Storm's... it's too risky. You never told the whole story, but based on what you  _did_ tell us? They can kill you and not give a single shit about it. And your d-dad," he stuttered, "even if he does help us and whatever, you've called his boss 'Leader-sama.' That's—That's a pretty big red flag for me that he scares you enough that you won't even  _say_ his name."

Yet, Sakura stood tall, eyes cold and face blank, and they knew they were very quickly losing all grounds to change her mind if they hadn't lost it already.

"I don't care," she said, and dropped his head in his hands as he smothered a strangled groan. "I'm not changing my mind. We're going."

But Shino pushed. He had to, he needed to, because he wasn't going to lose someone else in his life. Not pack. Not Sakura, especially not to the hands of the ones that ran her through or left her to Konoha without another word.

"You won't be free," he tried. "These people—I might not know who they are, but I know that nothing about them is  _good_. We're not just going to sit back and let you do this to yourself—"

"You will."

" _I won't,_ " he bit. "I won't let you do this. I won't let you put your life on the line."

"I've already made my decision."

"You're going to have to rethink it, then!"

"There's nothing to rethink."

"Sakura!"

"It's our best option."

"We can find other ones!"

"We won't."

"Your freedom—"

Sakura snaps.

" _If I wanted my freedom, I should have stayed dead!_ "

It was like everything in the room... dropped—Kiba's shoulders, Shino's resolve, Akamaru's head, Kurenai's shock, Sakura's patience.

Everything in this tiny inn room simply stilled.

" _Look at us._ " Sakura gestured around her, to the side table and the lamp and the old chair and her team, her pack. She gestured to their sensei who wouldn't be able to exert herself in a few months and to the bed with the half-dead man lying in it. "Tenzo needs a hospital, sensei's pregnant, Kiba and I will end up running ourselves into the ground, and after you use up all of what that soldier pill had, you'll drop." Shino looked away. "At best we have days, and I'm not about to let everything we've done go to waste." She smiled, wobbly but reassuring, and Kiba felt the tell-tale prick of tears behind his eyes. "And me? The longer I run away from them, the longer I'm delaying the day they find me and bring me back."

( _You're so, so afraid,_  Sasori whispered.)

Sakura shut her eyes for a moment.

_'I know.'_

She stepped back. "Right now, your safety is all that matters to me. And if that means going back to them..." She swallowed and let her arms fall to her sides. "If this is what it takes, it's a small price to pay." Then quieter, softer, so painstakingly  _vulnerable_ , "... I would do anything for you. I thought you guys knew that."

Kiba squeezed his eyes shut, one or two stray tears dripping down his face as Shino lowered himself to the ground to take a seat where he just stood about a foot away from a subdued Akamaru.

And Kurenai—Kurenai had nothing to say. She still knew next to nothing after everything had upturned, but one thing was clear;

Sakura had signed her own death warrant for them, and Kiba and Shino couldn't stop her.

Sakura took reluctant steps towards the door and laid one hand on the door knob. "I'm going to step out for some air. Maybe run another perimeter," she said. "And tonight," she twisted the knob and pulled it open, "we'll leave for Amegakure."

She disappeared into the hallway and shut the door behind her with a soft  _click_.


End file.
